


Different Ways to Fly

by BoltedBee, JulianObviouslyLovesToad



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, Egregious Baking, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, Humanformers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lingerie, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Power Dynamics, Pregnancy Kink, Prostitution, Squirting, Trans Male Character, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, War flashbacks, everyone is a hermaphrodite, spousal abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 134,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoltedBee/pseuds/BoltedBee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianObviouslyLovesToad/pseuds/JulianObviouslyLovesToad
Summary: Riot and Gravescour are about to graduate high school and set out on their journey of adulthood. Unfortunately, Megatron causes problems for both of them.Or,That one fic in which unhealthy relationships become healthy with time and effort.
Relationships: Megatron/OMC, Megatron/Starscream, Original Character/Original Character, Ratchet/OMC, Riot (OMC)/Gravescour (OMC)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend and I wrote this a year ago and we're finally getting to post it. It still needs copied and fixed up but it is complete. (see notes below)  
> JOLT was also the one who did all the writing, I just provided Riot and ideas as well as editing. We're posting on my account since I'm the one with the small Transformers following. We hope you enjoy the ride.
> 
> Please for the love of Primus heed the tags.

One particular Botley Crew song played on repeat from a cell phone speaker as two teen boys tried not to giggle, sharing a cigarette in the far stall of the most secluded restroom their school had.

“You know,” the lankier of them started, pushing sleek black hair out of his face, “You shouldn't be smoking, Mr. Maybe Military.”

“I know I shouldn't,” the older teen answered, “but it's really the only thrill I get right now.”

“Dancing and fighting doesn't do that for you?”

“It does, but it's not dangerous,” he explained, snatching the cigarette from his taller friend.

“Dangerous,” the slender boy scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “What do you need danger for?”

“Please,” the older boy said, tilting his head back to look down at his friend through red-lensed shades, platinum blonde hair with a shock of black shifting with the dramatic change of posture. “Don't act like you don't get off on danger.”

“Get off on it?” the black-haired boy asked, swiping the cigarette back. “I wouldn't put it that way,” he said with a small giggle.

The older boy rolled his eyes, but before he could give a snarky reply, the two were interrupted by another teen.

“Really, guys? Botley Crew?” the stranger asked. “Advertising it and everything? Whatever. You got another one?”

The boys in the stall grinned at each other. The lanky boy put one booted foot on the toilet seat and hauled his body, clad in black from head to toe, up so he could look over the top of the stall at the newcomer. “I'll give you one if you suck my dick,” he teased with a wink.

The older boy, dressed less conspicuously in a brown jean jacket and gray skinny jeans popped up next adding, “Fag for a fag?”

They both giggled. When the teen by the sink looked decidedly unamused, the first boy pulled a cigarette out of the breast pocket of his jacket. “I'm just messin' with ya,” he said, tossing the stranger the smoke. “You didn't see anything, okay?” he asked, his voice taking on a semi-sexual lilt.

“I never do, Gravescour,” the boy outside the stall said with a roll of his eyes. The music had ceased at some point in their banter. “But you might want to finish up soon. The mid-lunch checks will be coming soon.

“Roger that,” the white-haired boy answered with an exaggerated salute. He hopped down from the toilet and Gravescour followed.

“You're such a dork, Riot,” he teased, finishing off their shared cigarette giving a half-assed mockery of a salute back.

“Man, just go,” Riot said, giving the other a slight, playful shove. “Wash your hands so they don't reek of smoke.”

“Yessir,” Gravescour teased, the sexual lilt returning. As he did so, Riot following suit, he kept talking. “Ya know, I never could quite figure out why they keep boys' and girls' restrooms separate at school. They're rarely separate anywhere else. Plus, there's not much of a difference, anyway. It's just dick size, voice, and body size. But judging from you, body size isn't all that different, either.” He leered at his friend, who thankfully was used to Gravescour's flirtatious joking.

“Excuse you,” Riot said, mock offended, “I've worked hard for this body.”

“I know you have,” the younger man said, taking way too many paper towels. “I've been there for a good deal of it.”

“Which makes me wonder why you're the one with the girly frame instead of me,” the platinum blonde joked, bumping Gravescour out of the way with his hip.

“Excuse you,” the raven-haired boy said, a hand on his chest, “I'm not girly, I'm just malnourished.”

“Ahh, shit, I'm sorry, man,” Riot said, reaching out to ruffle his friend's hair. “You know I was just joking. Hungry?”

“I ate twice today. I'm good.”

“Snacks don't count,” Riot teased as they walked out of the bathroom.

“You watched me eat a chicken sandwich and fries!”

“Yeah, that's a snack!”

“How are you not fat?” the younger boy grumbled.

“Hey, I eat like a normal person,” Riot said, splaying a hand, “You're the one who eats like a mouse.”

“I'm getting there, dude,” Gravescour said.

“You'll be as ripped as me someday,” Riot promised with a proud smirk.

“Eh, I don't need that much muscle.”

When the hallway gave to the mess, the chatter was disorienting. Young men and women milled about, making the most of the forty-five minutes they got away from their studies. Riot and Gravescour found their usual seats thankfully unoccupied, due to the Air Force recruiters that had set up camp not far from their regular haunt. Two men sat at a long folding table, decorated with a cloth and pamphlets. They appeared to have a pull-up bar with them.

“I thought that was the Army's schtick?” Gravescour asked.

“I thought so too, but if it works,” Riot trailed off with a loose shrug, looking longingly at the bar.

“Ya gonna do it?”

“Why should I?” Riot huffed.

“Hey there, young man,” the shorter of the recruiters called out to Riot. “I see you looking! Come and give it a shot,” he offered, splaying a hand. Riot raised a fine, white brow as the recruiter continued, “No one will make fun of you for having the courage to try!”

The lighter-haired boy looked at his darker-haired partner. “Should I?” he asked.

“I don't see why not,” Gravescour answered, standing up to walk the few steps with his friend. As Riot spoke to the officer who grabbed his attention, the other recruiter's low, rumbling voice caught the slender boy's attention.

“Are you going to give it a shot, too?”

Gravescour looked over. The man was absolutely massive. Easily six-foot-four and almost all muscle. His deep brown hair, cut in a fade longer than military standard, was just barely starting to gray above his ears. He had a few days' worth of stubble that didn't quite grow around the scar cut into his strong jawline. His red eyes were piercing, and his smirk seemed almost sinister. It took Gravescour a good thirty seconds to get his wits about him to respond.

“Oh no,” he said with a little laugh. “That's one test I won't be taking.” He shifted his weight nervously as the older man raised a brow.

“It doesn't hurt to try, does it?”

“I dunno, does it?” Gravescour asked, the sexual lilt to his voice making him slap a hand over his mouth once he realized how he had spoken. The older man chuckled.

“You look pretty capable,” he said, a questionable tinge to his own voice. “You could probably use a little more muscle, but I can't really tell with all that black you're wearing.”

“I'm capable of taking care of myself,” the raven-haired boy said, leaning on the table. He pried his gaze away from the older man to watch his friend hop up and grab the bar.

“Is that so?” the older man nearly purred, making the teen shiver. “Then why don't you prove it?”

“I have nothing to prove,” Gravescour answered.

“Your friend seems to.”

“Well, he was born to fly.”

“And you?”

In response, the black-haired boy stopped counting Riot's chin-ups and turned to the older man, finding him leaning forward on his elbows, his hands folded under his chin. “What about me?”

“You weren't born to fly?”

Gravescour was tempted to make a dirty joke in response, but bit it back. “Nah, it ain't for me.”

“Then what is?”

The lanky boy sighed. “Not sure yet, but I know it's not the military.”

“How can you be sure? Have you given it any thought?”

“With how much Riot talks about joining? Of course I have. While I don't mind the physical elements of the job, I'm not too keen on being yelled at. Even more than that, I don't want to be responsible for thousands of dollars of technology or, ya know, other peoples’ lives,” he said almost flippantly, a toss of his hand belying his nervousness.

“That's understandable,” the older man said thoughtfully. “However, there is still plenty of grunt work to be done that pays well. Training doesn't last forever,” he promised. After a long moment where both turned back to watch Riot and the astonished look on the shorter recruiter's face, the older man added, “Let me make you a deal. I'll take you on a tour of the base today after school, should your parents be alright with it, and show you tasks that don't have lives on the line. Afterward, I'll buy you food from wherever you like. You can even bring your friend there, if you like.”

Gravescour sized up the man for a long moment, pondering the meaning that devious smirk gave those words. “It'll have to wait until tomorrow,” the lanky boy said finally. “I work out with Riot after school every day.”

“That's perfect,” the older man said, looking over as Riot finally dropped to the ground. “You both can come afterward. We can take a cart for the tour.”

“I'll think about it,” Gravescour said. He couldn't help gritting his teeth. His expression changed in an instant when Riot turned to him, holding up two shaky thumbs.

“New record! Seventy-two!”

“Kick ass!” the younger boy cheered back.

“You gonna try?”

“Nah,” he answered with a shake of his head, silken locks flying about. “So, found your branch?”

“I think so. Gonna get some more information.”

“Cool. I'm gonna go grab a soda before classes start back up. Meet you in the usual place after school?”

“Sure thing, man.” Riot turned his attention back to the younger officer.

As Gravescour headed off to find a vending machine he heard, “I'll be here until five,” from the older man.  
  


* * *

After class, Riot found Gravescour kicking his heels against the brick of the hip-height wall he sat on, sipping a can of soda with a blindingly neon yellow straw.

“Seriously, another soda?” the older teen asked.

“Hey, it's calories I otherwise wouldn't be getting,” the slender boy complained.

“Empty calories. I hope you know you'll be drinking water while we work out.”

The raven-haired boy rolled icy blue eyes. “I always do,” he grumbled. Hopping down from the ledge, he followed Riot to the gym where they changed, Gravescour put his hair in a ponytail and they hit the weights.

The older boy ignored the younger's half-hearted whining all the while. After thirty minutes, Riot, who seemed unfazed, dragged a defeated looking goth teen outside for a breath of fresh air.

“You upped my weights,” Gravescour whined, supporting himself on a sturdy shoulder.

“Because you're improving.”

“Only because you're torturing me,” was the overdramatic response.

“It's called 'tough love' and you enjoy it,” the platinum blonde fired back. They drank some water, Riot having to physically hold Gravescour back from chugging his bottle. “How about a race?” he asked once the slender teen got his breath back. 

The raven-haired boy immediately peeked up. “The one thing I can reliably beat you at? I'm game,” he said, bouncing on his heels. “Why didn't we do this first?”

“Uh, so I'd have a fair shot at beating you, and so you wouldn't bitch as much while lifting,” came the answer. Gravescour puffed out a cheek in response. “So, same as always? One lap around the school, first one back here wins?”

“Works for me!”

“No cutting corners this time!”

“Hopping a fence is hardly 'cutting corners' but okay,” Gravescour said, a bit exasperated.

“Ready, set-” Riot took off, earning himself a head start.

“Hey!” the slender boy shouted, taking off after his friend.

It wasn't long before Gravescour took the lead, hopping over obstacles that hindered Riot briefly. The leaner teen beat the other back to the starting point by a dozen seconds. He was catching his breath when Riot barreled into him. The two rolled a few times, laughing.

“I'll beat you some day,” Riot managed between heavy breaths.

“You've beaten me before,” the slender boy reminded.

“You weren't on top of your game those days."

“A win's a win,” Gravescour said with a shrug.

Another bottle of water later, the two helped each other with sit-ups until the slender teen complained of stomach cramps.

“It's all that soda you drink,” Riot lectured. “I thought you had a stomach of steel, or something?”

“I do,” Gravescour whined, “I can eat _anything_. But my stomach muscles don't like being ripped apart over and over.”

“Don't be a baby,” Riot said, even as he helped the other up and put his last bottle of water into the longer but thinner hand.

“No, you,” Gravescour shot back.

Riot chuckled, and the two sat back on the low wall to chat.

“So, that big recruiter asked me out tonight,” the slender teen started.

“Get out,” Riot said, leaning toward his friend. “Like, out-out or just out?”

“Not sure. He said I could bring you with me if I wanted. Tour the base, get food.” Gravescour kicked his feet as he talked. “That was probably just a ploy to make me feel comfortable, and he'll wind up making some excuse as to why you can't come too if I try to bring you.”

“Are you gonna go?” Riot asked, concern obvious in his voice.

“Maybe,” the younger boy said with a shrug. “Depends on what he's offering. I'm way past the point of fucking for a free meal now.”

“Even the good shit?”

“I might for the good shit, but he'd have to get me some to take home, too.”

“I'll come with you if you want. I definitely wouldn't mind a tour of the base. I'll make myself scarce if you wanna work him over, too.”

Gravescour smiled. “Thanks, man.”

“Hey, what're friends for?” Riot asked. “Let's go get showered and get you dolled up."

The raven-haired teen rolled his eyes.

Clean and dressed, the two walked back to the mess, finding the older recruiter still there, talking to one of the cooks. Upon noticing the boys, he excused himself from the conversation.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he greeted, offering one meaty paw. “I'm Lieutenant General Megatron. What are your names?”

Feeling protective of his friend, Riot took Megatron's hand first in the firmest grip he could manage without being overtly threatening. “Riot, sir,” he said, turning his chin up. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Quite the firm grip you have. A pleasure to meet you as well. I heard you had an interest in joining the force?”

“Sure do, sir,” Riot said when he took his hand back.

“And your friend?” He turned his attention to the younger teen. “You are?”

Gravescour took Megatron's hand, a brief look of surprise crossing the chiseled features at the surprising strength of the slender grip. “Gravescour, sir,” the goth boy said with a slight bow.

“Hmm, just Megatron will do for tonight,” the man said, taking his hand back. “Are you boys ready to go? Have your parents' permission? We've only a few hours until regular operations shut down for the evening.”

“Yup,” Riot said, faking cheer easily.

“Mmhmm,” from Gravescour, used to lying about having his mother's permission for things.

“Very well. This way,” he said, ushering the teens to the parking lot.

Megatron had an expensive car. The kind of car that even people in the semi-affluent suburbs the school was in envied. It was a sleek silver thing, not a scuff or dull spot on it. The interior proved to be just as immaculate when he opened the door for Gravescour, who awkwardly clambered inside. They talked the twenty minute ride to the base, mostly about Riot's future plans, since he seemed to have an idea of where he was headed. The way the older man lovingly stroked the leather gear shift didn't go unnoticed by the experienced pro in the passenger seat. He also caught the occasional leer in his direction. He decided to splay his legs a bit to see if the older man would take the bait, spreading the skinny-jean clad legs in a way that could be perceived as seeking a more comfortable position. Megatron didn't miss a beat. Without a pause in conversation with Riot, he slipped his hand from the gearshift to Gravescour's knee, his massive hand eclipsing it like it was little more than the gearshift and stroking it just as tenderly. The younger teen bit back a breathy moan.

Once there, the boys hopped out quickly.

“Yeah, he's into me,” the slender boy whispered to the older. “I'm gonna see what I can get.”

“Good luck,” Riot whispered back. “I'll stay nearby.”

“So,” Gravescour started, taking to Megatron's side, “you were going to show me the less important jobs around here?”

“Now, now,” the older man said with a chuckle, “All the jobs here are important.” He led the boys inside, checking in with a laminated pass. “Before I get started, I think I have something your friend might like to see. Riot,” he said, turning to the older boy. “How would you like to try a professional training simulator?”

“Drones or flight?”

“Take your pick,” Megatron said with a grin.

Riot looked at Gravescour and when he got a nod, the older boy answered, “Flight, preferably.”

“Very well, then,” the massive man said, leading the boys down hallways, passing checkpoints with his pass and greeting workers. He spoke to someone who helped Riot with the simulator. As the older teen was about to start, Megatron said, “We'll be back to get you in an hour. Have fun, Riot.”

Gravescour got a text, his phone vibrating in his pocket. He checked it quickly. It was from Riot.

_Pay attention to where you are and call or text me if you need me_.

_Will do._ he shot back, touched by his friend's concern.

“You've seen the janitorial staff on the way in, but the majority of them are contracted through another company,” Megatron started, his grin back on place as he led the boy down a hall. “However, the more secure areas require trained personnel to clean them.”

“Are those... 'secure areas' what you intend to show me now?” Gravescour asked, a teasing air to his voice.

“If you so wish,” Megatron said, an almost malicious glee on his lips.

“We're going somewhere without cameras, right?”

Megatron laughed. “You're quite forward, aren't you?” he asked.

“I'm young, not stupid.”

“Is that so?” Megatron asked, turning to an unassuming door and swiping his badge for access. “Just how old are you?” the man asked, guiding the boy into the room. He flipped on the light and closed the door behind himself.

“Old enough,” the teen said, hopping up on the only desk the room had. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back on his hands.

Megatron huffed out a little laugh under his breath. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it on the desk's chair. “So you're seventeen,” the older man growled, placing his hands on the table on either side of the teen's legs. “You're still old enough to enlist once you graduate.”

“So we need to keep using metaphors, huh?” Gravescour asked, appreciating the form he could clearly make out under a tight, light dress shirt.

Megatron laughed, a little loud for the close proximity, but Gravescour didn't look phased. “You are quite forward,” the man nearly cooed. “You remind me of someone... special to me.”

“Is that so?” the slender boy asked, cocking his head slightly.

“Quite so,” Megatron said, leaning forward. When the teen didn't relent, the older man continued, “You're quite different in many aspects, too. He knows what he wants, but not how to take it, and you have the power to take things but you don't know what you want.”

“Are you trying to seduce me into the Air Force?” Gravescour asked, lifting lean arms to drape them over massive shoulders.

Megatron laughed again. “No, not quite. I'm surprised you haven't named your price yet.”

“I thought the deal was food from wherever Riot and I wanted?” the slender boy asked, uncrossing his legs to draw the older man between them.

“I didn't peg you for such a cheap date,” Megatron teased.

“If you're not any good, the price will go up,” Gravescour warned, baring his neck.

Megatron hummed, itching to get his teeth on the pale expanse. “I do like a challenge,” he growled.

The teen expected to be bitten right away. He figured the older man the needlessly rough type and had braced himself for it. However, the gentle peck to the spot Megatron had been salivating over had his lean body tensing.

“Undress,” Megatron ordered as he pulled away.

Gravescour frowned, glad the massive meat wall of a man was too preoccupied with something else to see it. He'd hoped it would be over quickly, that he could just pull his pants down like a quick, back alley shag, but that didn't seem to be the case.

So he stood. Off went the coat with the fake gold fringe, let fall on the floor. Next went the graphic tee for some band that was popular in the punk scene. The teen had enough of those that he couldn't be fucked to remember what band he was advertising that day, and he didn't check as he cast it aside. His shoes were kicked off, the clasps left fastened as he slipped out feet too dainty for the large boots. His pants were next, the tight things shimmied down hips and thighs even paler than the rest of him. He finally gained the older man's attention again, clad in only black panties, his length already starting to fill, making a bulge in the soft fabric.

“How cute,” Megatron said, having finished folding his suit jacket into something of a pillow for the boy.

“Most people like it,” Gravescour said with a faux-shy shrug, his thumbs hooked in the waistband.

“Leave them on and get back on the table,” the older man ordered, his voice growing husky.

The teen pouted. “You don't want me to use my mouth on you?” he asked, his voice ticked up an octave.

“I think you'll be plenty wet for me,” the brunette purred, helping the teen back on the table as if he weighed nothing. “You seem to have a thing for older men,” he said with a smirk, running the back of one massive finger over the forming bulge in the other's panties. “Even the boys you like in your own age range are still older than you,” he said with a chuckle, watching the lanky boy squirm.

When Gravescour got his wits about him, he fired back, “I like older women, too.” He splayed his legs, letting one hang off the desk, the other propped up with his foot on the edge. “You should see our gym teacher. She's got a damn fine body for a woman in her forties.”

“Arcee,” Megatron said fondly, moving his finger down to rub over the heated folds behind the teen's length. He hummed contemplatively. “You should have seen her in her twenties,” he said, that malicious grin back in place. “She's unfortunately lost a fair bit of muscle mass by now.”

“I'd still bang her for an A,” Gravescour quipped.

“I don't doubt it,” Megatron said, highly amused. He pushed the panties aside to rub his thumb over the nearly hairless folds. When he pushed it between them, he found gathering moisture as he expected. The teen's gasp was music to his ears. “But let's not speak to other people right now, hmm?” he asked, sharp teeth bared in a villainous smile.

Megatron pushed his thick thumb in and out until the teen was quivering, panting in an effort to hold his body up on his elbows, until moisture leaked from the slightly swollen folds. When he took his thumb from the mess to rub the cluster of nerves atop the hole, the teen's whole body shook.

“Such an eager little thing,” the man cooed, withdrawing his hand. He laughed when the boy huffed and pushed his hips forward, seeking more stimulation. “I'll need to finger you open first,” he said as he unzipped his suit pants. “I doubt you've had a prick as big as mine.”

Gravescour raised a brow. He couldn't help but smirk as Megatron fished around in his pants for his length. “Is that so?” the boy asked, cocking his head back.

Megatron took a sick delight in the way the boy's jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he freed himself from the confines of his slacks. The older man gave himself a few strokes, one of his massive hands not even covering half of the huge prick.

“Oh,” was all the teen could manage as he watched the massive paw spread the leaking precum over the head.

“Don't worry,” the bulky brunette said, letting himself go, watching the raven-haired boy stare as his prick bobbed and twitched in anticipation, “I'll be gentle. At first.”

Megatron pushed the younger man's panties aside again, easing two fingers inside the dripping channel. Before long, the boy had to lay back, unable to hold himself up at the assault on his most intimate areas. Gravescour clung to the suit jacket as the fingers spread, prying him open. He gasped out a curse and jerked his hips down on the intrusion.

“If you're enjoying that this much, I can't wait to see your reaction to my dick,” the older man cooed. A third finger was added, and Gravescour fought the urge to close his long legs. “Now, now,” Megatron purred, using his other hand to keep the thighs spread, “Be a good boy.” His voice was silk and gravel and the boy's inner walls squeezed down hard on the fingers. Megatron licked his lips. “What a good idea,” he teased, leaning over the boy to get the leverage he needed to start fucking the boy hard with three fingers, “If you come before I fuck you, it'll be much easier to fit my cock inside your surprisingly tight little pussy.”

Gravescour pulled the older man's jacket up to his face, biting into the stiff fabric to keep himself from crying out.

“Already need to bite something?” he teased, his fingers working hard and fast to pleasure the wildly squirming boy. “I don't know if you'll be able to handle my dick,” he growled, a malicious smirk on his lips.

With a particularly rough twist of the massive digits, Gravescour's back arched, the older man's jacket shoved into his mouth with part of his own hand. Megatron gave a low, rumbling moan as a fresh wave of moisture dribbled out over his hand, his fingers trapped in a silken vice.

“Good boy,” the older man cooed, giving the boy only a few seconds to recover before he resumed finger-fucking the still-spasming hole. “Staying so quiet for me,” he continued. “Your body must know what's coming, getting so wet.”

Gravescour could only give a muted little whimper, gritting his teeth when the fingers suddenly pulled out.

“Now now, sweet boy, it's my turn to feel pleasure.” Megatron held the teen's panties aside with the thumb of his clean hand, the boy's straining length trapped by the cotton. He rubbed his wet hand along his own length, spreading Gravescour's fluids over it. He held his length still, moving forward to rub the head of his massive prick over the overly sensitive cluster of nerves atop the drenched passage. Gravescour whimpered low in his throat, only vaguely worried that he might tear the jacket between his teeth if the older man tore him. “Don't worry, sweet boy. You're so wet. It'll be a tight fit,” he promised, rubbing his cock between the folds, “but it'll feel good for both of us.”

Gravescour closed his eyes, almost afraid that he'd chicken out if he saw the turgid prick teasing his hole. He didn't have much time to worry, biting down on the jacket and letting out a loud sound from the back of his throat as the older man thrust inside. His inner walls clenched around the intrusion, spasming weakly in light of his recent orgasm. His other hand blindly sought out a thick shoulder, clinging to it like his life depended on it.

He could hear the older man chuckle, his voice right next to his ear as he spoke, “That's only half of it.” Gravescour could only whimper. He made small, throaty noises as Megatron started to shallowly thrust, still talking. “Your pussy is so fucking wet, sweet boy. You better not make a mess of my pants. I'll have to punish you if you do,” he warned.

Gravescour clawed at the shoulder, his body twisting in vain as Megatron held him in place. The stiff prick splitting him open slowly being worked deeper inside. Once fully seated, Megatron had a satisfied groan. He leaned back to look between them at where their bodies connected. Gravescour still clung to his shoulder, short nails dug into the cotton of the older man's shirt. The change of angle had the teen groaning around the fabric in his mouth. Megatron gave a couple shallow thrusts, watching the quivering hole struggle to handle his girth.

“Yes,” the man hissed, “I'm so glad you can take all of me, sweet boy.” Said boy only whined quietly in his throat. After a long moment of just watching only a couple inches of himself ease in and out of the boy, he spoke again, “I'm going to fuck you now,” he growled, his dick throbbing inside the slender body, “And I'm going to come deep inside your tight little pussy, sweet boy.”

Gravescour almost lost his hold on the jacket when Megatron took him by the thighs and pulled his pliant body closer, but luckily he kept the jacket between his teeth to stifle the noises he made when the older man started to pound him. The teen couldn't tell if he was in pain or pleasure, his body overwhelmed by the whole ordeal. He just clung as the beefy brunette growled filthy things and sweet nothings. He felt himself gushing again as the thickly-veined cock refused to let up its assault on his insides. He could only whimper as the massive body slammed against his, chasing its pleasure in a spasming passage, a steady litany of “good boy” falling from scarred lips. Megatron's dick swelled even more as he shoved in as deep as he could, and Gravescour's body gave up, going limp as the older man's dick seemed to pulse endlessly, pulling at sensitive spots with each throb.

Gravescour could barely whine when he felt himself suddenly empty of all but cum, the older man holding his folds open with his thumbs to watch the thoroughly stretched out passage twitch and leak.

“Beautiful,” the older man cooed, moving one thumb to rub at the nerve cluster, setting the teen squirming again. Megatron held him open, watching his seed dribble from the spasming hole as it clenched from the unwanted pleasure. When Gravescour started to huff out curses, the older man relented. “Lucky you,” he said when he pulled back, “My pants survived unscathed.” There was amusement in his voice. “However, now would be a good time for you to use your mouth. Clean up the mess you've made of my dick,” he ordered, pulling the mostly limp body from the table. He allowed the teen to brace himself on him as he guided the other's head to his softening cock with a hand fisting his hair. Gravescour blindly obeyed the command, lapping at the still-massive prick until it shone with only saliva. Megatron growled as he pulled the boy back. He let go of his hair to busy himself with packing away.

“If we had more time, I'd fuck that sweet mouth of yours, too,” he growled.

After a minute, Gravescour responded, “There's always tomorrow.”

Megatron laughed, “You've got spirit, boy,” he said, hauling the other up, “And a bit more muscle than I expected,” he said, appraising the lean muscles bicep in his grip. “Let's get you presentable so we can all go eat.”  
  


* * *

  
  


As the three piled into the car, Gravescour's hair a bit messy, Megatron asked where the boys wanted to eat. They chose an expensive seafood place with internationally famous biscuits. After ordering far more food than the teens seemed able to eat, Gravescour excused himself to the restroom.

“Ya know, I could stand to go too,” Riot said, making to follow. Once in the safety of the thankfully otherwise empty bathroom, the older boy asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” the slightly taller teen answered with a laugh. “I might limp for the weekend, but I'm golden.”

“Limp?” Riot asked, a note of concern in his voice as he headed for a stall. He stopped just short and turned to look at his friend who had been to the next one over.

“His dick is as massive as he is,” the flustered goth boy replied.

“How massive?” Gravescour held up his arm, making a fist. “Get out,” Riot said, rolling his eyes.

“That's only a little bit of an exaggeration,” the younger said. “It was surely as thick as my wrist.”

Riot reached out to wrap a hand around his friend's wrist, finding that his thumb and middle finger only barely touched. He whistled. “Holy shit, dude. Are you sure you're alright?”

Gravescour laughed. “Yeah, I'm fine. We might do it again tomorrow.” He then went into the stall and locked the door.

“RIP your ability to walk,” Riot said, moving to do his business.

“You could come too, if you want,” the younger boy teased, a sexual lilt back in his mouth. “You could take that dick and I could finally win one of our sparring matches.”

Riot's answering laugh boomed so loud that anyone walking outside the bathroom door would have heard it. “My holes ain't made for dicks that big.” After a quiet moment, he spoke again, “I kinda wanna see it, though. 

Gravescour emerged to wash his hands only a few seconds before Riot. “You could sit on my face while he fucks me, if you want,” the goth teen offered off-handedly.

Riot shivered, giving the younger a slight shove with a still-wet hand. “Dude, don't turn me on in public,” he scolded.

Gravescour simply stuck out his tongue.

Back at the table, Megatron controlled the flow of conversation as they waited for their food.

“So, Riot,” he said, “you want to be a pilot?”

“Yes, sir,” was the answer.

“Delightful. I heard from the Sergeant that you did exceedingly well on the simulation for someone with no training.”

“Cool,” Riot said, trying his damndest to keep a self-satisfied smirk off of his face.

“Perhaps you should have tried it too, Gravescour,” the man suggested.

“Maybe,” the slender teen answered, “but if I grow much more, I'll be too tall to be a pilot.” He then looked the brunette up and down. “Which makes me wonder what a man like you is doing in the Air Force.”

Megatron laughed. “There are many ground jobs in the Air Force,” he supplied.

“Indeed,” the goth teen teased, “Who knew the Force needed pros?”

“Many service men and women will tell you that if you talk to them long enough,” Megatron said, a smirk on his lips at both boys' stunned silence.

Their food arrived soon and both of Megatron's brows shot up at the sheer amount that was laid out before them.

“Surely you boys won't be eating all of that.”

“I will be,” Riot answered quickly. “I am a growing boy, after all.”

Gravescour snorted. “I won't, but I wanted some to take home, anyway.”

Megatron gave an amused huff and a small shake of his head. When he gestured for the boys to dig in, they did.

Back in the car, Riot patted his belly, satisfied. “That was good,” he groaned, making his raven-haired friend laugh. “You didn't even eat half of yours.”

“You know I don't eat much,” was the answer.

“Maybe you should change that,” the brunette suggested, “So you can build more muscle.

“What's muscle going to do for me?” the goth teen asked.

“More muscle never hurts,” Riot quipped.

Megatron asked for Riot's address, and plugged it into his GPS. They made small talk on the way there. When they arrived, Riot didn't seem to want to part from his friend, but the slender boy assured him he was alright, so he took his bag and headed in.

“I'm home,” he announced, setting his backpack down just inside the door.

“Welcome home,” greeted an older man with a shaved head. “What kept you out so late?”

“Ah, Air Force recruiter took 'Scour and I on a tour of the base. Got us dinner,” he answered.

Thrush's sour expression brightened a fair bit. “Going into the Air Force, boy?” he asked, hesitating a bit on the last word.

“I think so,” Riot answered. “I was told I did pretty well on the flight simulator.”

“I'm happy to hear it,” his father admitted a bit awkwardly. “I'll be proud to call you my son with those wings on your back.”

Riot wasn't sure if his old man was guilting him into joining the Force with that statement or just being his awkward self. “Yeah, well, I can't join until I graduate in three months, then I have to wait another two to start basic,” he said, his own awkwardness showing.

“There's no rush,” Thrush said, “You've only just turned eighteen.”

After a brief pause, Riot's father inquired about why Gravescour was there, too, if he was also thinking about joining the Force.

“Nah,” Riot answered with a shake of his head, wild locks bouncing as he did so. “I think the recruiter just thought he could get a two-for-one deal on us since we're so close.”

“Makes sense,” Thrush said. “Well, all I ask is that you give it some thought. Oh, and that you vacuum the dining room before you go do whatever it is you do on the weekend.”

“Sure thing, Pops.”  
  


* * *

  
  


In Megatron's car, Gravescour shifted nervously. The older man had pulled out the driveway before even asking for the goth teen's address.

“You don't want to go home, do you?” the older man asked.

“Not particularly,” was the only answer he received.

Megatron took a long look at the boy at a red light. “I shall get you a hotel room, then. I'll fuck your tight boypussy again as payment, then leave you the run of the place. Does that sound agreeable to you?” he asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as the teen squirmed.

“Yeah,” was all Gravescour could say.

Megatron had to take a moment to calm himself down after they'd pulled into the parking lot of a decent hotel on the outskirts of an alright neighborhood. His dick was already starting to fill at the thought of being inside the boy again. Once confident he could book a stay without his erection being noticed, he told the boy to wait there and got out to pay. They quickly found their room, the older man carrying Gravescour's leftovers as the boy had his backpack over his shoulder. Inside, the man dropped the white bags on the table and practically ripped his suit jacket off. He draped it over the back of a chair. The teen sat his backpack in a different chair and watched as Megatron loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt.

“Strip,” the massive man ordered. “Take your panties off this time. Lay on the bed and finger your horny pussy for me.”

The boy shuddered at the command, but shed his clothes quickly. He gave his slender length one good stroke as he lay down, positioning it to lay against his belly for the best visual effect. He spread his legs, looking up at the brunette as the older man continued unbuttoning his shirt.

“Go on,” Megatron husked, pulling his tie off over his head, “Show me how much that horny pussy wants my massive cock.”

Gravescour whimpered, reaching a hand between his legs. With two fingers, he fondled the nerve cluster there, making a show of rubbing his clit fast and hard. When the older man stepped out of his briefs, his full, hard, scarred body on display for the boy, Gravescour couldn't help but shove his two fingers deep inside his hole. He moaned quietly, jamming the fingers in and out, silently cursing himself for how wet he was already. He added a third finger, roughly fucking himself on the slender digits as Megatron moved closer to the bed, stroking himself.

“Mm, such a horny boy,” the older man cooed, kneeling on one knee on the bed.

Gravescour's hand moved faster, desperately fucking himself as he stared at the leaking prick.

“Don't worry, sweet boy,” the scarred man cooed, “I'll make your tiny, tight little pussy squirt all over this bed.”

The teen whimpered at the promise, making a louder noise of surprise when he found the bulbous head of the man's cock at his lips. Gravescour looked up, his brows pinched together, still furiously at work on himself.

“Don't worry, I'll only come in your pussy,” Megatron promised, “But I do want to feel your mouth.” He forced the head of his cock past those lightly painted lips, jerking on a few inches in and out of the wet cavern. Megatron didn't have to lean far to cram two of his own fingers in the wet hole alongside the teen's. With the resulting moan from the youth, he used his free hand to grab a fist full of raven locks and shove his massive prick down a tight throat. Megatron hissed out his pleasure as the boy gagged on him, his finger-stuffed pussy gushing over his hand. The older man kept the boy gagging throughout his orgasm, his fingers never letting up, drawing it out. He finally pulled the boy's head off his dick with the hand in his hair when the wet channel stopped spasming. “Are you ready, boy?” he asked, grinning wildly as his fingers easily slipped from the fucked-out hole.

Gravescour could only whimper when his legs were forced apart, not making much of a sound from the strain his throat had just experienced.

“Since I came earlier,” Megatron started, settling his massive body between slender legs, “I'll be able to fuck your sweet boypussy for much, much longer this time.” He gave a low, rumbling growl as he once more rubbed the head of his cock between the folds. “I wonder how many times this horny hole will squirt on me?” he asked, not expecting an answer.

“Please,” Gravescour whispered, his voice gravelly.

“You want my dick?” he asked, purposefully teasing the hole, acting like he was going to push in only to have it slip up and bump the nerve cluster.

“Yes!” the teen gasped, spreading his legs as far as he could.

“Where do you want it?” the older man teased, his length slipping again. Gravescour gave an annoyed groan and turned his head to look at the older man's cock for a moment before making eye contact. He rubbed his clit with two fingers as he said, “I want your huge cock in my horny pussy. I'm so fucking wet for you. I can't take it much longer,” he groaned. “Please, my pussy needs something to squeeze,” he begged. “I need your huge cock, Megatron.”

The older man shook, not expecting the dirty talk. He smirked, forcing the boy's legs uncomfortably far apart. “Such a good boy, begging for my dick,” he cooed. “I'll let you have it,” he said, letting the head push past the folds.

“Please, please,” Gravescour begged, hands fisted in the sheets.

Unable to control himself any longer, Megatron slammed home all in one go. The teen yelped, his inner walls quivering at the sudden intrusion. Megatron gave the boy no time to adjust, fucking the tight hole deep and hard. He could feel the walls of the boy's pussy clamping down on his dick, another orgasm already drawing near. He picked up the pace, leaning back to watch his cock abuse the tight hole. “Squirt on my dick,” Megatron ordered, punctuating each word with a deep, hard thrust. “Let me see that little boypussy squirt.”

Gravescour tried to close his legs, but hands held his thighs splayed. The teen could only gasp for breath, trying to fend off his rapidly approaching orgasm.

Megatron was having none of it. “I will see your pussy squirt, sweet boy, even if I have to fuck you all night,” he warned, his thrusts growing rough. One deep thrust slightly off-center got him, and Gravescour screamed. He arched his back, pushing back on the prick that had him stretched to his limit. His legs quivered, his insides clamping down on the massive cock as he squirted, just as Megatron had ordered. His fluids went everywhere as the older man groaned, shallowly thrusting into that same spot over and over. The teen cried out, unable to do more than let the thick prick throb against his insides as pleasure sang in every nerve.

“Beautiful,” Megatron said, slowing his thrusts. He only gave the boy enough time for his breath to recover to a speed that wasn't worrying before he resumed plowing the passage again. Gravescour couldn't even scream. “I love the feeling of your pussy coming on me, sweet boy. Let's do it again,” he said, reaching down to rub his fingers over the teen's exposed, swollen clit. He rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves, soon switching to pinching it between his forefinger and thumb. Gravescour's legs remained locked in place as the massive man tortured two orgasms out of the boy's overstimulated clit, stopping with his dick deep inside the boy each time to enjoy watching and feeling his hole clench and relax.

“I can't take much more,” Gravescour whined.

“I think I can wring one more orgasm out of you, boy. You ever had your dick and pussy come at the same time?” Megatron asked, moving to loom over the over-sensitive boy, supporting himself with one arm to free up his other. Gravescour shook his head. “Then boy are you in for a treat,” he growled. Pushing his dick as deep as he could, he sat back on his knees, earning a cry from the teen. The brunette reached out to fondle the length with one hand, forcefully rubbing the clit with two fingers of the other.

A steady mantra of “fuck, fuck, fuck” fell from the boy's lips as he squirmed on the cock, unable to do anything but swear.

“Let me feel it, sweet boy. Your dick and pussy overwhelmed by pleasure. Come for me and I'll flood your tight pussy with cum.” He used two fingers and his thumb to stroke the dripping wet length, but that was more than enough.

“Fuck my pussy,” Gravescour said harshly. “Fuck my pussy, please. I need that big dick pounding my needy fucking pussy to nut, please,” he begged.

Megatron could only growl. He repositioned himself and started slamming into the passage harder than ever. “Rub your clit,” Megatron ordered, using the wet hand to brace himself over the boy. Not needing to be told twice, Gravescour flicked two fingers over the swollen bundles of nerves repeatedly, jerking back and forth between the three different types of pleasure he was feeling. He cried out as his dick squirted in the older man's hand, the thrusts in his hole so hard they hurt. But they hurt so good as he kept flicking his clit, his pussy gushing with another squirting orgasm.

“Yesss,” Megatron groaned, finally giving up on anything more than roughly using the spasming hole for chasing his own pleasure.

Gravescour kept rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves, unable to stop the motion, a second orgasm ripping through his body, his fucked-out hole squirting around the throbbing prick once more. Megatron's cock pulsed as the man groaned, holding the smaller body so tight that he was likely to leave bruises. He kept thrusting for a minute after he came, the teen still flicking his over-sensitive clit and squeezing the softening cock inside him.

“Fuck,” the older man groaned, pulling Gravescour's hand away from himself. “Fucking horny pussy of yours would take an army to satisfy, wouldn't it?” he teased as he pulled out, a geyser of cum and fluids jetting out of the spasming hole. When Gravescour did little more than hum a response, the older man started thumbing the incredibly swollen clit. Gravescour thrashed and screamed, but the older man didn't relent. He shoved two fingers deep into the overworked pussy and jammed them in and out, despite the boy trying to push his arm away. “Come for me again, sweet slut boy. I want to see my cum leak out of your squirting pussy,” he ordered.

Gravescour didn't know where he pulled the energy from, his mind a foggy mess, but he arched his back and pushed back against the fingers, tears pouring down his cheeks as he did so. The only sound that escaped him was a constant whine when the older man started to torture his clit with a finger and thumb again. Then, something much softer touched the swollen nub: Megatron's tongue. He sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth and beat it relentlessly with the wet muscle. Another weak orgasm washed over the exhausted boy, each clench of his insides pouring out more of the older man's semen into his palm. Megatron sat back on his knees to watch, curling and flexing his fingers to encourage the spasms to continue.

“Beautiful,” he growled. “Such a good boy.”

When the older man removed himself from the bed entirely, Gravescour just lay there, groaning. An amused chuckle from the brunette had the teen turning his head and weakly raising a brow.

“You look absolutely wrecked,” he said, his devious grin more relaxed than the boy had seen it yet.

“You've ruined me for the other men,” the slender teen joked, his voice the tiniest bit slurred.

Megatron laughed, patting a quivering thigh with his cleaner hand. “I'm going to shower and I'll be out of your hair. Be sure to rest up, sweet boy.”

“You don't have to tell me twice,” the younger mumbled as the brunette headed off to the shower. Gravescour was sure he'd fall asleep before the man had even left, but he found himself unable, his dreadfully swollen clit and insides throbbing delightfully. He gave an annoyed huff and used two fingers to test the waters. His clit was still too sensitive to touch, but it felt good to stroke the drenched folds, outside of the throbbing parts. He simply stroked himself with his eyes closed until a grunt and a chuckle made him crack an eye open.

“You're still horny?” Megatron said incredulously.

“What can I say?” the teen barely got out, “It's like my body was made for this. One more for the road?”

With an annoyed growl, Megatron threw off his towel and pulled the boy to the end of the bed. Neither seemed to care how much they smeared the fluids on the comforter. After one more round, one more orgasm for each man, Megatron cleaned himself with the towel and dressed. He took out his wallet and threw two-hundred credits on the table next to the boy's food. Gravescour sat up as the man headed for the door.

“Until next time, Gravescour,” the brunette said, looking back over his shoulder. He left, shutting the door behind him.

The teen groaned as he stood, walking over to find his jacket for a smoke. He snorted when he noticed the money, and happily shoved it in one of the jacket's pockets. After he finished the cigarette, he nibbled on more of the food before just yanking the soiled comforter off the bed. He quickly showered, cleaning himself out as thoroughly as he could manage, and threw his wet hair up in a messy bun. He sprawled his slightly moist body over the sheets and promptly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! JOLT here. Thanks for embarking on an adventure with us! Now, I know I personally have a history of not finishing half of my fics, but I guarantee you that this fic is already finished! In fact, we've been sitting on it for almost a year and just haven't posted it yet. It needs a great deal of editing still, and is pretty much still a giant text wall at this point, so we will need to break it down into digestible chapters and fix many of my errors (I wrote it on a cellphone, and my autocorrect loves potty humor). We will post one to two chapters a week until the whole thing is uploaded, so stay tuned for more in the saga of Gravescour and Riot!
> 
> There will be more tags added in the future. Please heed them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get to know the other important characters.

The next morning, Gravescour woke to a text from Riot. His phone kept dinging with the notification, eventually rousing him from the first decent sleep he'd had in a long time. The teen let out a pained cry when he got up to retrieve his phone from his pants, then cursed Megatron under his breath. He flopped back down on the bed and groaned. When he realized he forgot to charge his phone overnight, he gave an annoyed huff.

 _Are you alright?_ the text read. _You haven't texted me yet and I'm starting to get worried._

The teen couldn't help but smile. _I'm fine._ he quickly sent back. _My poon is hella sore tho._ He chuckled a bit.

As he waited for a response, he let his free hand wander between his legs. He spread them a bit and felt himself up. He was still a little swollen, it seemed, but not too sensitive to touch.

_Geez. What happened? And where are you?_

_I'm at a hotel on the other side of town._ As the nude teen kept typing out another reply, another message came in.

_Are you ok?_

Gravescour smiled, deleting the message he was typing. _Yeah. I'm in a good hotel, not a dirty one. I still have half the delicious food from last night AND I'm 200 credits richer._

_He gave you money, too?_

_Yup!_

_Good. I was worried you got taken for a ride. I didn't want you to have fucked a guy for food and for me to try that simulator._

_The simulator was a happy accident, dude._ Gravescour chuckled as he sent that. _And I told you already, I'm beyond fucking guys for food unless the dick is really good._

_Was it?_

_Like you wouldn't believe._ Gravescour then decided to elaborate, fondling his half-interested prick as he did. _He made me cum so much. I lost count after five._

There was a pause before the response came in. _Holy shit._

The comment made the slender teen laugh. _It was amazing. My poon is still throbbing. I hope he becomes a repeat customer._

_Dude, don't turn me on right now. I'm supposed to be mowing the lawn._

_Text me back when you're done._

Gravescour got up, complaining to himself as he did so. He dug his charger out of his bag and plugged his phone in. He finished off the rest of the first box of food while he waited for his friend to text back.

_Alright, I'm free. Details?_

Gravescour grinned, laying down on his back, holding his phone up to text back. _It was so goddamn thick that it stretched me to my limit. He wouldn't let up on my clit, either. At least a couple of those orgasms were from him relentlessly rubbing it._

 _Fuck_ was the response, making the young teen giggle.

_He fucked as hard as he looks like he does, too. I'm still swollen from it. Wanna see?_

_If you don't mind me masturbating to it._

Gravescour grinned. He played with his clit for a moment to plump it back up. Once satisfied with the size of the nub, he spread his legs and snapped a couple pictures. After finding one he liked well enough, he cropped it and deleted the others. He sent the picture with the text, _Just delete it when you're done =P_

He pulled up the picture on his texts and looked at it for a long minute. His hole was decidedly puffy, and far more red than it usually was after a night on the town. What Megatron had said was true, though. He'd never had a dick that big before. Looking at the damage from the humongous prick made him want to finger himself. Figuring he'd have time before Riot got back to him, he checked the time on his phone and, upon finding out he still had a little less than three hours until he had to check out, did just that.

He deleted the picture and made sure his phone was charging before laying back on the bed with his legs splayed. His fingers felt like very little when compared to Megatron's prick, but with the swelling, he could get a fair deal of pressure. He took three fingers as deep as he could, playing with his clit with the other hand.

His mind started to wander, thinking about what he'd offered Riot the previous night. He imagined the older teen sitting on his face while Megatron plowed him. He removed his fingers from his clit to pull the pillow over his face to simulate the feeling as best he could in his current circumstances. He moaned into the fabric, closing his legs as he came on his own fingers. Tossing the pillow aside, he headed to the bathroom to wipe himself down. He licked his lips, wishing he could taste his best friend on them. He returned to a text lighting up his phone.

 _I always do_ was followed shortly by _Hot damn_ . Gravescour laughed. _So have you given any more thought to that thing you said yesterday?_

_lol believe it or not, I just came on my own fingers thinking about eating you out while he fucks me._

_Dude I just got off._

_So did I ;)_ Gravescour sent another text right after: _Want to go to the mall today?_

 _That money burning a hole in your pocket?_ The teasing tone could almost be heard over the text.

 _You know it. I'll buy orange chicken._ he offered.

_You had me at mall, but I'll take chicken too. What hotel?_

After giving the details, Gravescour prettied himself up, changing his panties out for the spare briefs he kept in his bag.

* * *

At the mall, the boys browsed various stores. Riot wound up buying a CD he was convinced he didn't need, and Gravescour tried on way too many shirts without buying a single one.

“Dude, I need a dildo,” Gravescour complained.

“Sucks to be seventeen,” Riot teased.

“Or I could give you the money and you could buy it for me,” the younger teen said nonchalantly.

“Finder's fee?” Riot asked with a grin, his colorless lip gloss glinting in the halogen lights.

“You want your own dildo?” Gravescour asked with a raised brow.

Riot's face dusted with pink and he pulled his shades down from the top of his head to put them over his eyes. “Maybe,” he said quietly. For a slight change of subject, he asked, “Where are you going to keep it? Your mom'll just throw it away if she finds it.”

“My bag,” was the answer with a devious grin. “It and you are the only things that never leave my side.”

Riot's blush only intensified. “Get out,” he said with a playful shove. “So, uh, a big one?”

“Yeah,” the younger teen said dreamily.

“You're not going to turn into a size queen on me, are you?” the older boy asked, looking away.

“Nah,” Gravescour said with a scoff. “It'll just be nice to have every once in a while.”

“Uh, that's good, I guess. A-about how big?” The younger teen held his hands out to demonstrate and the platinum blonde grumbled. “Do I get to watch you break it in?” he whispered conspiratorially.

The other teen huffed out a little laugh. “I'm already buying you your own dildo _and_ chicken.”

“Well!” Riot huffed, “You've been working me up all day.”

“Is your dad home today?”

“Nope. He's out at my aunt's place, helping her build something or another.”

“Fine, then. I'll break it in on your bed. Been missing the taste of your poon, anyway.”

Riot's glasses were almost indistinguishable from his face with the force of his blush. “I should have never introduced you to that word,” the older boy complained. “You use it too much now.”

“It's cute!” Gravescour defended.

“Whatever, just give me the money, and go get the chicken. I'll meet you in the food court.”

When Gravescour handed over the one-hundred credit note, the older teen balked. “They won't break this unless you spend over half of it.”

“Dude, I want a ten-plus inch dildo. That's gonna cost at least forty. Yours will be at least twenty.” He waved his hand. “I wouldn't be surprised if you only came back with a fiver. If you want to get some other stuff for us to mess around with, go ahead. Just don't take too long or your chicken will get cold.”

Riot grumbled in response, heading off in the direction of a store where he could get what they wanted. Riot's face still matched his shades when he returned, dropping the bag on the table. It made a loud thud. “Chicken. Now. Please,” he said, sitting down. He pointedly ignored Gravescour's grinning as he shoveled his double meat into his mouth.

“Can't wait to see what you grabbed,” he said, passing over what he couldn't finish of his own food. Riot ate that too as Gravescour talked, sipping on the biggest soda he could find. “I wanna grab some lingerie while I'm here, too.”

Riot nearly choked on his food. “Are you trying to kill me?” the older boy asked.

“What? You can have your way with me after we get back to your place. It's not like I get to pick up new work clothes all that often.”

“'Work clothes',” the platinum blonde said with a scoff.

“Hey, if I look good, I make more money. Plus, my cutesy clothes aren't doing me all that well since I dyed my hair black,” the slender teen complained.

“Well, you are moving on from creepy pervs who like little boys to lonely dudes who like twinks,” Riot explained.

“Yeah, but I could charge the creeps a lot more,” Gravescour said with a pout.

“And the reward for the oddest conversation of the week goes to...” Riot trailed off. Both boys chuckled.

After the older teen gave what was left of the money back, and Gravescour bought a few skimpy garments, the younger boy had a little less than a quarter of the credits that Megatron gave him left.

“We can order pizza later, if you want,” he offered on the ride back Riot's.

They went up the stairs that lay beyond the spartan living room to Riot's bedroom. The walls were decorated in flight-themed posters and a few that advertised bands both boys liked. Riot drew the blinds as Gravescour dug through the bag to find his new toy. He took it from the box and appraised it lovingly.

“How is it?” Riot asked, his face reddening again.

“His was bigger, but this will do just fine.”

“Bigger,” Riot marveled.

“I told you it was huge.”

“Geezus,” the older teen mumbled.

“I was serious when I said I missed the taste of your poon,” the raven-haired boy admitted, looking up at his friend.

“That's sweet, I think,” Riot said, joining him on the bed. “But you need to stop calling it that.”

“Still horny?”

“If you're gonna shove that thing up your poon while I watch.”

“You just called it poon!” Gravescour cried, smacking the other with the pink, veiny dildo.

Riot laughed, sticking his tongue out. The older boy ran his fingers through shiny black locks once, giving the other a small peck on the lips.

“Don't you know you're not supposed to kiss a pro?”

“Yeah, but I can kiss a friend,” Riot said softly.

“Fuck you, that's too cute,” Gravescour screeched.

“You're the one getting fucked today,” the white-haired teen said, pulling away. “Think about Megatron's dick and show me what you want him to do to your horny poon.”

“If I have to stop calling it that, so do you!” The younger boy raised his voice. “Give me some lube,” he groused. The slender boy got off the bed, shedding his clothes. “Oh, and a towel.”

Riot rolled his eyes but grabbed the requested items. He spread the towel out on the bed, nervously licking his lips. He left the half-used bottle of lube on the towel and stepped back for the other to get comfortable. Riot watched as the younger boy spread his legs, letting the large toy rest on the towel between them. Gravescour ran his hands up and down his thighs, then took his half-interested cock in his hand.

“I wish I was as comfortable naked as you,” the white-haired teen said out of the blue.

Gravescour stopped for a moment, laughing. “When you do this for a living for so long, you stop caring,” he said, picking up the toy. “Besides, you have a great body. You're toned, but not giant, your dick is pretty...”

“Don't call it 'pretty'!” the older boy took a turn at screeching. “And, hey, uh, we don't have to do this if you don't want.”

Gravescour rolled his eyes in response. “Are you kidding me? I love doing stuff like this with you. Now at least take off your jacket. I do feel a little uncomfortable when you look so formal while I'm nude.”

Riot scoffed and shed his ever-present faux-leather jacket quickly. Before he lost his nerve, a band tee went flying too. He shucked his shoes and socks and sat on the end of the bed to watch his friend tease his hole with the new toy, rubbing it between the folds. Riot fondled himself through his jeans, encouraging his length to fill as he stared, lips parted.

“So, how did it go?” Riot asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Mm, well,” the younger teen started, settling the toy and lube aside, “First he had me lay back on the bed and finger myself for his viewing pleasure.” Slender digits parted the folds as he spoke, two of them slipping inside before long. Gravescour made a little sound of pleasure, slowly moving his fingers as moisture built. He picked up the pace as the slide eased. “Then he showed me his dick and had me tell him how much I want it. Why don't you show me yours?”

“Dude.”

“Don't 'dude' me,” Gravescour tried to complain, his voice breathy. “You're going to be naked and sitting on my face in five minutes. So what's wrong with me seeing that hot dick for a minute or two?” He made a quiet sound, adding another finger. “He made me come on his fingers first,” the goth teen whined. Riot bit out a curse, reaching down to stroke himself, staring intently at the fingers dipping deep inside a moist passage. “But I'll get to it, since I want to taste you.”

Riot made a sound in his throat, pushing the head of his cock against a very leanly-muscled thigh, spreading precum there. The raven-haired teen took the toy in hand again. He brought it to his mouth and started sucking it obscenely.

“Did you do that to him?” Riot asked, his voice again barely a whisper. Gravescour moaned the affirmative, shoving it in until he gagged. “Fuck,” was all the older teen could manage.

When the younger boy removed the toy from his mouth, he flicked his tongue over the head of the dick, winking at his friend. Riot's lips parted as the other teased his glistening folds with the toy. “Lube?” It was handed to him immediately. He didn't use much, but safety was always a touching concern of Riot's. Bottle cast aside, Gravescour moaned as the head breached him. “Fuck,” the slender boy breathed.

“I concur,” Riot teased. The younger boy laughed, jostling the toy deeper inside of himself.

“Oh,” he sighed, pushing it deeper.

“How's it feel?”

“Great,” the black-haired youth promised.

“Even after a dick as big as his?” the older teased.

“Yes,” Gravescour hissed, sliding the toy out and shoving it back in hard. “Oh, god, yes!”

“Dude,” Riot started, reaching between the other's legs to gently run a finger over the place where the toy and flesh connected. “You're so swollen.”

“I'm wrecked, Riot,” was the answer.

“And you're still horny.”

“It's mostly your fault,” the slender teen accused.

Riot smiled. “Glad to help,” he said, taking his hand back.

“Are you gonna sit on my face or what?” Gravescour asked impatiently. Riot rolled his eyes, setting his shades on the bedside stand and moved to straddle the other. “Oh god y-” His voice was cut off by warm, fleshy folds pressed to his lips. He hummed out a moan and wasted no time delving his tongue inside his friend.

“Fuck,” Riot gasped, his body jerking. He braced himself on the bed, finding he had an excellent view of the other pounding himself with the large toy, taking every last insertable inch. He cursed again and ground down on the eager mouth, the wriggling tongue hitting all the right places. The white-haired boy took his own length in hand and stroked himself, trying to work up the courage to say the filthy things that crossed his mind. Before long, he was bouncing and grinding, Gravescour's moans picking up in frequency and intensity. “Yeah, c'mon,” Riot rasped, “Fuck your horny pussy with that thick toy. Wanna see you come so much it seeps through the towel and I have to sleep in it tonight.”

Gravescour keened, the noise vibrating throughout Riot's lower body.

“Oh fuck,” the older boy growled. “That's right, let's see you come, baby.” Thick fingers sought out the swollen nerve cluster and gently rubbed, making the younger teen scream into him and thrash. “Yeah,” Riot cheered, riding the waves his friend made with his movement. Gravescour's tongue froze up as an orgasm ripped through him, his fluids leaking out around the toy.

After a long moment where Gravescour had pulled back to catch his breath, slender fingers found Riot's firm ass and pulled him down on his face, delving his tongue as deep as it could go. Riot huffed out a curse, his hands falling away from his friend to support himself.

“Oh god,” the white-haired boy panted. “Fuck, 'Scour...” He laid his cheek against a slightly raised thigh, closing his eyes to enjoy the sensation. “I think I'm gonna come,” he whispered.

Gravescour only pulled down harder. Riot pushed himself up, reaching one shaky hand forward to take control of the toy his friend had abandoned in favor of his pleasure. He resumed thrusting into the wet hole in shallow but hard thrusts. Gravescour screamed, Riot taking joy in watching the hole clench around the toy.

“G-gonna come again? Come with me? I'd love to see your pussy gush on this prick while mine does a-all over your face.”

A few more thrusts had Gravescour crying in pleasure, digging his nails into his friend's ass. Riot finally let himself go, the sight of the younger teen just gushing around the veiny toy helping him over the edge. The raven-haired boy tried to drink up as much of the other's orgasm as he could, licking and sucking until Riot pulled off of him, oversensitive.

“Holy fuck,” both boys groaned at the same time, Riot flopping down on the bed, Gravescour easing the toy out of himself. They both laughed at the phrase they used.

“That was great,” the slender teen promised. He leaned up on his elbow, groaning. “I think my pussy needs a fucking break though.” He turned to Riot, who was leaning back against the headboard. They both barely fit on the bed, but it was cozy. “Hey, can I suck your dick?”

“You can _not_ still be horny,” Riot deadpanned.

“Nah, not really, but you're still hard.”

“You don't have to do that, man,” the older boy said, running his fingers through the other's messed hair as he crawled between his legs.

“I want to, though.”

Riot huffed in response, letting the other have access to him. As lips wrapped around the head of his cock, Riot gave a soft sigh, petting the other's hair. He figured he should be glad his length was small, easier to fit the entire thing in a partner's mouth. Gravescour didn't seem bothered by it as he drooled all over him, sucking with everything he had. “That's great,” Riot breathed, stroking the back of his friend's head.

It wasn't long before Riot was giving the other a warning. He didn't expect the younger teen to pull away, and he wasn't surprised as he gobbled down all of his fluids greedily.

“You are somethin' else,” Riot said after they caught their breath.

“I aspire to be everything but normal,” Gravescour joked with a wink. He laid over Riot's thighs for a long moment. “I'm getting sticky,” he said eventually.

“Me too,” Riot commiserated. “Wanna go for a soak?”

“Yesss,” the younger teen hissed. “Jacuzzi tub,” he practically sang. “How long do we have until your dad gets back?”

“He won't get home until it's dark, so we have full run of the place.”

“Hour-long jacuzzi bath,” Gravescour resumed singing. “My back and legs need a soak. But, oh, getting my... cooch in the water won't be fun.”

Riot barked out a loud laugh. “Just call it poon, I don't really care.”

They took a long, relaxing soak in the hot tub on the back patio, just chatting about life. Riot rubbed each of Gravescour's legs, and the taller boy returned the favor with his friend's shoulders. Later, when they grew hungry, they ordered a pizza and put on a movie.

“Wanna go clubbing?” Gravescour asked, turning off the mind-numbing cartoons they'd settled on after their movie was over.

“You can't seriously want to work after all of that,” Riot responded in disbelief.

“You know I only get to work weekends and holidays, and nights mom kicks me out.”

“Buy me a drink?”

“If you want a soda. Neither of us is old enough to drink.”

The older teen grumbled at the truth as it was laid out for him.

“But,” Gravescour said in a sing-song voice, “we could always find some handsome older men to buy us drinks.”

“Or just wash off the underage stamp and buy them ourselves,” Riot suggested.

“Cute little things like us? Spending our own money on drinks?” The goth teen looked offended at the notion. “Please,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. Riot laughed as he stood, shoving slender legs off of his lap so he could.

“Fine, then,” he said. “Let's get dolled up. Clubs open in less than an hour.”

Luckily for the slender boy, he kept a small suitcase of clothes in Riot's bedroom, tucked away at the back of the closet. They dressed, fussed over each other's hair and makeup and headed out.

“Oh, good,” Gravescour said, fussing with the sleeve of his nearly see-through split-sleeve blouse, “I know the guy at the door tonight.”

“So, you can get it?”

“For a blowjob, yeah. Won't take long, I promise,” the younger teen said, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips.

“I guess I'll go wash off the underage stamp while you're doing that, then,” Riot said. “Wanna meet me in the bathroom?”

“That works.”

Once they reached the front of the line, the man there grinned. He was tall, on the muscular side and dressed from head to toe in blue, his staff identification on a lanyard around his neck. He had layered red hair, one hypnotic yellow eye and a shapely jaw. His teeth were almost too white as he smiled, a stark contrast to the pitch black eyepatch over one eye. “Gravescour,” he purred. “Lucky you. It's almost time for my break. I think I'll be taking it a little early today.”

“Break?” Riot asked. “The club just opened, like, fifteen minutes ago.”

“I come in an hour-and-a-half before it opens, sweetheart,” the man said, looking the older teen over. “Are you with him?”

“Yeah, need my ID?”

“Not necessary,” the man said with a wave of his hand. “I've known Gravescour for years now, and I know he wouldn't bring anyone of... ill repute into our fine establishment.” He barely kept himself from laughing. Gravescour even snorted.

“C'mon, Breakdown,” Gravescour cooed, “Don't keep the others waiting.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” the older man said, radioing for someone to take his place while he took his fifteen.

Riot wandered off in the general direction of the bathroom while Breakdown led the black-clad teen to a relatively low traffic staff area.

“I'm glad it was you tonight instead of your _coworker_.” Gravescour made conversation as he dropped to his bare knees. He picked his too-small shorts out of his crack as the older man spoke; 

“Yeah, he can be a prude, but he does his job well.” He gave the boy a long look, his hand on his sharp jaw as he considered something. “I bet you'd go nuts for having two men fight over who gets to put their dick in your pretty mouth, though. Wouldn't you?”

Gravescour chuckled, low and dirty. “Yours is enough for me,” he said, batting artificially extended lashes.

“You always know the exact right thing to say,” Breakdown groaned, fishing his half-hard length from tight, blue slacks. He gave himself a few strokes, the organ plumping in his hand. “Alright, sweetheart. Open that pretty mouth.” When the dark-haired teen did, Breakdown made a little sound of disappointment. “Aww, you're not wearing lipstick tonight,” he said, a pout in his voice. “I love smearing it all over your face...”

“That's why I'm not wearing any right now. I don't want to waste half my night fixing my makeup,” Gravescour said with a pout.

“Come down early next time. I'll let you in beforehand so you have plenty of time to fix it.”

Gravescour smirked, turning his head into his shoulder.

“I see that look. You can't fool me,” the older man said, reaching down with his free hand to take a gentle hold of the teen's jaw, turning him to face his long but slender length. “I won't keep you too long,” Breakdown promised, “I only have fifteen minutes, anyway.”

Gravescour hummed, letting the cock push past his lips. He moaned throughout the whole ordeal, his eyes closed against the older man's praises. A large hand would occasionally caress his cheek, occasionally feeling the hollow his cheek made on a particularly hard suck. The hand gently patted the cheek as a warning, and the teen swallowed every last drop. After pulling back, watching Breakdown squeeze the last of his seed from his length, the black-haired boy leaned up to lick away the bead of moisture.

“Oh, you're such a good boy,” the older man husked.

“I try,” Gravescour said, his shit-eating grin impossible to hide.

As the redhead packed himself up, he kept talking; “When are you gonna let me hit that pussy?”

“When you pay me,” the teen said with a laugh, getting to his feet. Finding his shorts had ridden up once more, he righted them with a scoff.

“What if I gave you the drinking age stamp instead?”

“I suppose I could lower the price, in that case,” the younger said, pulling all his hair over one shoulder.

“How much?”

“For you? Two-hundred.”

Breakdown whistled at the cost. “Catch me after payday and I might. Wanna go have a smoke before you get to work?”

“Sure, but I have to be quick because my friend is waiting for me.”

“He won't be waiting long.”

A few minutes later, the scantily-clad teen found Riot in the bathroom.

“I was starting to get worried,” the other said, checking his hair over one last time. “That guy gave me creeper vibes?”

“Breakdown? Nah, he's cool. A couple years ago, a guy tried to forcefully drag me out of the bar and he decked the man so hard he had to be hospitalized.”

Riot's red and black-lined eyes widened as he made a little noise of astonishment. “Honor amongst thieves, or... child predators, I guess.”

Gravescour laughed so hard he snorted. “Yeah, he knows I'm underage, but he's not a bad guy, otherwise.”

“So, what took you so long, anyway?”

“We had a cigarette. I took it, since I don't have room for any in this outfit.” Gravescour shifted from foot to booted foot, making an annoyed sound when his shorts rode up again.

“You could store them in your shoes,” Riot suggested, “Or, ya know, wear more reasonable clothes,” he teased. He motioned to the pockets on his tight cargo pants. He lifted his arms to stretch, and his gray crop top showed his lean stomach. He groaned before he continued; “Are we ready to go flirt for some drinks?”

“I'm ready to go make some money!” the younger boy cheered.

The two spent the next hour or so giggling over the lame jokes of lonely men, earning themselves a small handful of fruity cocktails. Gravescour snuck off to the bathroom with an out-of-shape man to earn himself a quick four-hundred, he downed his drink with a sour face.

“That bad?” Riot asked.

“Not really, but it was irritating and time consuming. I had to clean up because he insisted on nutting on my face if it was gonna cost him four-hundred.”

“Oof,” was all the older teen said. He seemed to be looking at something in the distance, over his friend's shoulder. “Don't look now, but I think our principal is here.”

“At a gay club?” Gravescour asked, immediately turning.

“Dude, I said not to look!” Riot hissed. He cursed under his breath when the tall, fit bluenette looked their way. He raised a dark brow upon noticing the boys. When the man excused himself from his conversation, all the boys could think was 'busted'.

“Good evening, boys,” the man said as he approached, his standing height dwarfing both seated teens. “Getting an early start on your graduation party, are you?” He seemed in good humor, but the teens were still wary.

“Principal Optimus,” Riot greeted, his shoulders hunched.

“Do not sound so dour,” the older man said, gesturing vaguely with his half bottle of some expensive lager, “If you are not consuming alcoholic beverages, I can't rightly complain. You are both seniors if I remember correctly.”

“Yes sir,” Gravescour answered.

“Come, sit with us. I will buy you both a soda, if you would like.”

The teens looked at each other. Could they turn the offer down? Would the man become suspicious if they did? With a shrug, the younger of the two got up, motioning for Riot to follow. Optimus gave a muted smile and led them back to his table.

“Gentlemen, this is my old friend Ratchet,” Optimus introduced a white-haired man nursing a tall mug of something dark. “Ratchet, these are students from my school. Riot and Gravescour, I believe.”

The older man glanced between the teens, then looked up at Optimus with a furrowed brow. “What're a couple of kids doing here?” the older man barked.

“They're young,” Optimus stressed the word, “adults, but adults nonetheless.”

Gravescour took Riot's hand under the table, his excitement of getting away with something like that in front of their principal getting to him. Riot's hand was just as sweaty when he squeezed back.

“How am I supposed to talk to people this young, Optimus?” the older man groused.

Gravescour took a long look at the stranger as his principal tried to hold back an exasperated sigh. He looked fit, from what the boy could see. He might have had the slightest bit of a gut, but he couldn't quite see that far down over the table. He was wearing a black airman's jacket, and it seemed a bit tight around his shoulders. The blue shirt underneath was tight. His hands were a bit on the large side, gripping the mug tightly. His hair was a slicked back fade, thoroughly white, though his brows were a bright and almost unnerving red. Gravescour wondered if the man's beard would grow in red too, and tried not to giggle.

This drew the man's attention, striking blue-green eyes turned on him. The teen hunched his shoulders.

“Like so, Ratchet,” Optimus said, turning toward the boys. “What are your plans after high school?”

“I'm joining the Air Force,” Riot answered, a soda placed in front of him by a waiter. One was given to the younger teen as well. They wondered when they had been ordered, but they cast it aside to continue conversation. Ratchet perked up at what the platinum blonde said.

“Is that so, young man?” he asked, his entire demeanor changing.

“Yes sir,” Riot said with a nod.

“That's great to hear. What do you intend to do?”

“I want to be a pilot, sir.”

“Ah, a soon-to-be-fellow airman can just call me Ratchet when we meet in a bar,” the older man offered.

Optimus gave another muted smile, happy to see his friend socializing. “And you, young man?”

“I'm sorry?” Gravescour said, his shoulders finding his ears.

“Are you joining the Force with your friend?”

“No, sir,” the raven-haired boy answered with a minute shake of his head. “If I grow any more, I'll be too tall to be a pilot.”

“Ya don't have to be a pilot,” Ratchet said, “There's lots of ground jobs in the Force.”

Gravescour cracked a small smile. “People keep telling me that, but I don't think I'm cut out for military service,” the boy admitted quietly.

“Why not?” Ratchet asked as Optimus flagged down a server to order a pot of coffee. “You seem to have a bit of muscle on ya.”

“It's- well, I-” Gravescour's usually outgoing and flamboyant personality was failing him in the moment. Riot started to open his mouth, say something to distract from his friend, but Optimus chimed in.

“It's not for everyone,” he said, his voice soft. “What have you considered?”

“I thought about going to college,” the younger teen said. Riot squeezed his hand in a comforting manner. “But, in all honesty, I might just take a year off and get a part-time job so I can save up some money to move out on my own before I make any lifelong plans.”

Optimus nodded sagely. “Also a sound option,” their principal said. “You do not have to decide what path your life will take immediately after high school.”

After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “If you did go to college, what were you thinking of majoring in?”

“Nursing, maybe,” the goth teen said, again catching Ratchet's attention. “But,” and he laughed, “I don't think my grades will get me there.”

Optimus frowned. “What do your grades look like right now?” he asked.

“Mostly Bs and Cs with a couple of As and Ds sprinkled in,” Gravescour admitted honestly.

“That's not terrible,” Optimus returned, just as honestly. “You might have to start at a community college, but I think you'll be able to manage it.” He then turned his attention to the white-haired boy. “What made you decided to join the AirForce?”

“Well,” Riot said, smiling, “My dad was in the Force, first of all.”

“What's his name?” Ratchet asked.

“Thrush.”

The older man hummed thoughtfully in response.

“He encouraged me to join some branch of the services, so I knew I'd be joining something. The recruiters that came to school a few days ago took us on a tour of the base, letting me use a flight simulator. It was rad, the Sergeant said I did really well for someone with no experience.”

“That's not something recruiters usually do. What was this man's name?”

“Megatron,” the older teen answered.

Ratchet grit his teeth and Optimus closed his eyes briefly.

“I see,” was all he said for a long moment. “Oh, neither of you have touched your sodas,” he noted. “Riot, accompany me to the bar, and I will have you choose new ones.”

“We could just share your coffee,” the teen said. “We should probably be going soon, anyway.”

“I said I would buy you sodas, so I insist.” Optimus did not let up so Riot shrugged and followed him toward the bar.

It was a bit awkward for the remaining two, so the older man busied himself with chugging the rest of his beer. He could feel icy blue eyes on him. “Any reason you're starin'?”

Gravescour bit his lip and looked away with a muttered “sorry”.

“You don't look like someone who's usually this timid. Am I intimidating or something?”

The teen laughed, raking his nails through his hair over one shoulder. “It's Optimus,” he said.

“Oh, right,” Ratchet said with a smirk. “Must be pretty awkward to run into your principal at a gay bar.”

“It sure is,” Gravescour agreed. “Are you two together?”

Ratchet was glad he'd finished his drink or he surely would have spit it out. “No. Absolutely not. We're just good friends. He dragged me out here to get me to socialize, or some other excuse. Honestly, I think he just wanted a grumpy old wingman to make him look even better by comparison,” the older man complained.

Gravescour laughed and Ratchet couldn't help but smile. “So, uh, you and Riot?”

The teen just shook his head. “We love each other, but it's not like that.”

“Sure seemed that way with how you two were holding hands under the table,” the older man teased. Gravescour blinked a few times, his face bearing a puzzled expression. “Nothing gets by me, kid. Like those shorts you're wearin'? Way too small for someone your age.”

“Gotta advertise the goods,” the teen said without thinking, slapping a hand over his mouth and laughing. He tried to change the subject; “Seriously, how did you see all that?” he asked, ducking down to look under the table. “Do you have a mirror or something?”

Ratchet laughed awkwardly, telling himself that the heat rising to his cheeks from his third beer. “I'm just observant, that's all,” he dismissed.

Gravescour took a long look at the man, his gaze turning cold and calculating briefly. Ratchet checked off 'be intimidated by a high-schooler in hot pants' from his list of things he thought would never happen to him. “Did you come here to get laid?” Gravescour asked, his demeanor cheerful once more. Again, Ratchet was thankful for his lack of drink.

“Nope! No, nope. Absolutely not,” the older man sputtered. “I only came out here because Optimus dragged me out here.”

“What a shame,” he almost pouted.

At the bar, Optimus prompted Riot to choose the sodas he and Gravescour would like. As the bartender was mixing flavoring into the sugary drinks, Optimus spoke; “Look, Riot...”

“Yes, sir?”

“Megatron is not someone you want to be spending time with.”

Riot's brows furrowed and he looked up at his principal. “Why is that?” he asked.

“He is...” he started, immediately stopping when the drinks were presented to the teen. Once the bartender wandered off to help someone else, he continued; “Megatron can be a rather, ah, manipulative, aggressive person. Do not let him pressure you into making life decisions. You still have quite a few months before you have to make any decisions. Please, just think about it on your own.”

“O-of course, sir,” Riot said, though it sounded more like a question.

Optimus ordered another beer for Ratchet, and asked for some creamer for his coffee when the bartender came back by to buy himself some time in the awkward conversation.

“Did he do something I should be aware of?” the teen asked.

Optimus stiffened. “No,” he said quickly. “He is just pushy.” After a moment he said, “Let's head back to the others. They are probably suffering for conversation without us.

“I bet 'Scour is talking your friend's ear off without us there.” Optimus raised a brow. “He's really talkative, but not around authority figures, ya know?”

“I see,” Optimus said with a nod. “Will Ratchet be alright?”

“One can only hope,” the teen said with a laugh.

They returned to Ratchet sputtering and Gravescour giggling, holding on to one end of the table to keep himself upright.

“See?” Riot said to Optimus out of the corner of his mouth, smirking. When Ratchet noticed the others, he muttered “oh thank god” and happily took the beer his friend offered. Gravescour kept giggling until Riot sat back down, putting their drinks in front of them, taking the taller teen's hand under the table. The goth boy immediately ceased his giggles. A series of hand squeezes followed. Ratchet watched with a raised brow, catching the unspoken language in the mirror on the wall behind them.

Optimus made his coffee the way he liked it and sipped it as he pointedly ignored the intense and accusatory stare from his friend.

The boys drank their sodas, making more small talk vaguely school-related with the older men. Once they'd consumed an acceptable amount, they made an excuse to leave and took off, quickly. Gravescour looked back and briefly made eye-contact with Ratchet, who proceeded to down his beer to avoid it.

“You're coming back to my place, right?” Riot asked as they climbed into his black jeep. It was a beater, but it worked.

“I don't wanna go home until Sunday night if I can help it.”

“That's fine. We just can't have my dad see you in those shorts.”

“I'm not gonna hook up with your dad of all people,” the younger teen said, looking scandalized. Riot made a choking noise, his face blazing.

“That is not what I meant! At all. What I mean is I'll get a lecture about your clothes.”

“That's weird.”

“It is, but you have to come in our back door.”

“If you're into that,” the goth boy teased.

“Oh my god,” was all Riot could say. After a bit of comfortable silence, he started to talk; “Optimus said to avoid Megatron.”

“Did he now?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“He didn't give much detail,” the older boy said with a frown. “Just that he's manipulative and aggressive.”

“Sounds kinda hot if you ask me,” Gravescour said with a shrug.

“I mean, same, but if he has our ex-military principal worried, maybe we should be too?”

The younger teen worried the rings on his right hand. “I can take care of myself, but you're nervous, I won't ask you to be around him if you don't want.”

I don't know, man,” Riot said, sounding tired. “Being warned against it makes it seem kinda...”

“Exciting?”

“Yeah,” the older teen said on a heavy breath.

“Well, if we don't get separated, we'll be fine,” the slender boy said.

“I suppose.”

The rest of the ride was in silence, Riot quivering in anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, half this chapter is basically sex.
> 
> JOLT here. Oh, yeah... We neglected to mention that there is A LOT of sex in this fic. Probably at least one scene per chapter? Sometimes two. Rarely three, but it might happen. Guess last summer was a horny summer or something!

“Ugh, finally,” a slender man groused from his spot on an overindulgent leather sofa as he heard the door open. He stood and straightened his silver hair in a decorative mirror on the wall, flicking the red streak forward, curling it slightly with one finger. He cocked his head to admire himself, knowing he'd have a couple minutes before his company entered the room. He adjusted the straps of the lacy black number he was wearing, fluffing the childish skirt that barely covered a thing. He tugged on the collar around his neck, giving a quiet groan under his breath.

“Starscream,” Megatron growled from the archway.

The platinum blonde jumped, his shoulders arched. He turned to look at the older man, giving a nervous smile. “W-welcome home, Master,” he greeted, folding his hands in front of him.

Megatron closed the distance between them surprisingly quickly for someone of his bulk. He was grinning something evil, his eyes glinting as he seized the slighter, but still somewhat muscled form. “You missed me so much that you put on my favorite outfit of yours, did you?” the bigger man asked, pulling hard on the skirt. It dipped farther down Starscream's hips, making the younger man reach for it to try to keep it on. When the slender hands were removed from in front of himself, Megatron shoved a massive hand under the skirt and between milky white thighs. Starscream cried out as fingers rubbed roughly over hidden lips. “You even shaved your little pussy hairless for me,” he marveled, voice rough.

Starscream braced himself on a broad chest, whimpering when the man's middle finger forced its way inside. The brunette gave a pleased growl at finding moisture, pumping his finger in and out to encourage it to flow.

“And you've been thinking about me, too, it seems,” he teased.

“Ah! Y-yes, sir,” Starscream managed, his legs trying to close of their own volition.

Megatron only shoved his finger deeper in response, all the way in to the knuckle as the smaller man bit his lip not to howl. “Don't get shy on me now, sweet boy,” the older man cooed. He gave a rough nip to his smaller partner's ear and withdrew his hand from the other entirely. Starscream pushed his hips forward, whining at the loss of contact. His length strained, holding up the front of his skirt. He barely kept his balance in his high heels when Megatron pulled away. “Where is your chain?”

“In... in your bedroom,” was the answer, the platinum blonde's hands fisted at his sides to keep from touching himself.

“Good,” the massive man growled, fondling the growing bulge at the front of his slacks with the hand he'd had inside the other. “Go chain yourself to my headboard, and I'll be up in a few minutes.” As the younger man turned to leave, Megatron gave another order: “Finger your horny pussy while you wait for me, but don't you dare come.”

“Y-yes, Master,” the silver-haired man said, one hand sliding under his skirt as he hurried off.

Clad in only his slacks when he entered his bedroom, Megatron found Starscream three fingers deep in himself, gyrating his hips. His red eyes were closed, and he moaned quiet curses and his older partner's name. The brunette's menacing growl had Starscream yanking his fingers from inside himself, his hips still moving as they sought more pleasure.

“Did I tell you to stop?” the older man asked, playing with one of his own nipples. The motion caught the prone man's attention, drawing his eyes to it and the old bullet scar just above it. “Well?”

“No sir, forgive me,” Starscream said a bit too quickly, gasping when he shoved his three fingers back in.

“Such a horny boy,” Megatron teased, stalking toward the bed. He placed a hand on one creamy knee, giving it a tender stroke. The younger man whimpered, his knees drawing together involuntarily. “Don't you dare close your legs,” he ordered, shoving them apart. “I want to see you desperately fingering your horny boypussy, longing for my cock and unable to get off without it.” Megatron had to hold the younger man's thighs apart as they kept trying to close on reflex, but he kept pleasuring himself with his fingers, his whole hand dripping wet from his desire.

“Please,” he begged.

“'Please' what, boy?” Megatron asked, his meaty fingers digging painfully into pale thighs.

“P-please, Master,” the tense form begged, “Please fuck me. I- I need your cock. I can't- I can't come without it.”

After that only a steady mantra of “please” fell from Starscream's lips. Giving the thighs one last rough squeeze before he pulled away, Megatron quickly rid himself of the rest of his clothes. He knelt on the bed in front of Starscream, making the smaller man have to spread his legs to catch sight of the massive prick his older partner stroked. His eyes were glued to the movements of the pale man's fingers.

“I need it so badly, please,” the platinum blonde begged, squirming under the intensity of the older man's gaze.

Ignoring the plea, Megatron spoke; “I think I might have you keep this outfit on when we're done here. Take you to the living room and finger your horny little boypussy while we watch television. I'll make you squirt all over the leather and have you lick it off while I fuck your hairless little hole from behind.”

Starscream whimpered, his body twisting in his attempt not to come at the other's words.

“I see you like that idea, my sweet little slut,” the brunette teased.

“Yes Master, please. Please, please!”

After another long minute of just watching Starscream pleasure himself, Megatron grabbed the other's wrist and roughly pulled it away. The younger man made a scared sound from his throat, but didn't have time to do much more as he was lifted by his thighs. Megatron pushed all the way in one rough, fast thrust, and Starscream bellowed. The pressure pushed him over the edge and his insides spasmed, gripping the older man's cock in a shivering silken vice as he gushed over the prick, his fluids running down his own backside and Megatron's thighs. The older man gave a loud groan of pleasure.

“Nothing is hotter than a squirting boypussy,” he growled. When Starscream sagged, Megatron took his thighs in that bruising grip. He grinned, bearing sharp teeth. “Let's see if we can do it again.”

Before he'd even finished speaking, he started pounding the quivering hole at an unforgiving pace. When the younger man reached down to weakly push at the bigger body, the massive man grabbed both long, slender muscular sides.

“Your pussy is so fucking horny, why are you resisting? The tight little hole is trying to keep my dick inside. Don't fight it,” he cooed, his voice turning deceptively sweet. “Don't fight the pleasure my cock is giving your sweet little hole. Come for me,” he asked between thrusts. “Come on my cock. Let me see your pussy gush.”

For a moment, he gave up on dirty talk so he could just pound the passage, the only sound in the room the wet sloshing and Starscream's muted whimpers. When the smaller man's voice started to rise in pitch, Megatron knew he was getting close.

“That's it, baby boy. Let me feel you come.” At the first note of his partner's shout of orgasm, Megatron pulled out.

“No!” the younger man shouted. “No, no! Please!”

But the older man didn't listen, instead he backed up, holding the younger man's legs apart to watch his stretched-out hole clench on nothing. He watched the clear liquid squirt so far it drenched Megatron's thighs, Starscream straining against the chain. He rumbled a pleased noise and started to rub the swollen clit roughly. Star kept screaming, his body thrashing, over-sensitive but still being stimulated. A third orgasm fast approaching. Starscream lost his voice when the massive prick forced its way back inside, the older man still furiously abusing his clit with a malicious grin on his face. He thought he might have lost his hearing when his third orgasm washed over him, but Starscream was simply thankful to have the massive prick inside of him, to have something to clamp down on as his insides rippled in pleasure.

“Good boy,” Megatron growled, shoving deep inside. His prick jumped with each clench and relax of his partner's overused hole. “Very good boy,” he praised, letting the quivering pussy milk him of every last drop.

Starscream whined when his partner resumed and kept thrusting until his length was too soft to penetrate. The smaller man sagged to the bed, his legs splayed, hole leaking.

“Oh yes,” Megatron said, “I'm going to enjoy fingering this puffy little pussy later.”

Starscream groaned. He'd forgotten what the other had told him he planned on doing. He swallowed thickly.

Starscream held his arms out for Megatron, the tired limbs sagging. The older man took the embrace, returning it for a long moment. The older man unhooked the chain from the collar and allowed the slender form to curl into his bulk. Sharp features cooed a happy note into the thick neck. “I'm glad you're home,” the younger said on a heavy breath.

“Me too,” Megatron admitted, turning to rub stubble against a clean-shaven cheek. “I'm not sure for how long, though.”

“For tonight, at least?” the slender man begged, clinging to the lightly-perspiring shoulders.

“Yes,” Megatron agreed. “All night. In every room. You will sleep on my chest,” he promised, unable to keep from smiling at the happy noise from his tensing partner. “Right now we need to eat. Fuel up for the night ahead.”

When Starscream pulled his head from the meaty neck, he said, “I have steaks marinating. I need only cook them.”

“My favorite outfit and my favorite food?” Megatron asked, sitting up. He reached for the bedside stand and opened the drawer, pushing aside lube and smaller toys to fetch a cigar and a box of matches. “Why, Starscream it's almost as if you've done something wrong and are trying to make it up to me,” he teased, lighting his smoke. He shook out when the end was only just barely too hot to touch, pressed it to one of Starscream's creamy thighs.

The slender man hissed and shrunk away. “It- it's nothing like that!” he placated. “I've just missed you, is all. You haven't been around as much lately, and I wanted your return to be a happy one.” He pressed his fingers together nervously and looked off in the distance.

“It was, Starscream,” the massive man promised, leaning over to share a mouthful of smoke before pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to slack lips. “Can you walk?” he asked upon pulling back, his voice clearly amused.

Starscream huffed. “If I take off the heels, yes.”

Megatron made a displeased noise. “We can't have that,” he said, standing up with the cigar between his teeth. “I'll just have to carry you, then.”

The younger man gave an indignant squawk when he was hefted into strong arms, held against a thick chest. But he soon gave in, wrapping his own arms around the other's neck. It was almost like their relationship was new again, Starscream marveled as the older man carried him all the way to the kitchen, seemingly unbothered by hefting over a hundred-and-eighty pounds of muscle several meters.

“Put on the cute apron, and I'll sit here and watch,” the bigger man whispered in his partner's ear, giving it a teasing flick with his tongue.

“Okay,” was the immediate response.

With the frilly pink thing on over black lace, Starscream cooked successfully for the most part. Megatron was handsy, teasing his folds until they moistened, pressing a wet finger against the smaller man's asshole, but never penetrating, running a finger over the underside of his cock just often enough to keep it erect.

When the man sat down, his full body was on display: Bulky, well-defined muscles, hard nipples that he toyed with using his free hand, and massive, eager prick. With the way he spread his legs, Starscream could even see the other's rarely touched hidden lips; small, tight and perky from lack of use. The younger man's dick throbbed whenever he got a peek. When the food was done, Starscream ate quickly. Megatron savored every bite, being sure to make the most sexual noises he could just watch his younger partner's face turn as red as the swatch of hair that hung down over it.

Once he finished, he stood, giving his length a few strokes. “That was delightful,” the older man cooed, “I think relaxing in front of the television would be the best way to round out the rest of the evening, don't you?”

“O-of course,” Starscream eagerly agreed, still leaking from the other's earlier teasing.

“Take off your apron and come join me,” Megatron ordered, lighting up what was left of his cigar.

Starscream did as told, following the man into the living room, his heels clicking on the floor. He found his massive partner sitting on one end of the couch, his legs splayed, lazily stroking his cock and still puffing away on the cigar. Starscream moved to sit daintily next to the other, but jumped when he'd found the hand that had been stroking the thick length waiting for him exactly where he'd chosen to sit. Megatron rubbed the puffy folds roughly, setting his cigar aside in favor of the remote. He turned the TV on to something vaguely news-ish, then picked up his cigar again. He flicked the ash in a nearby tray as he continued to tease the other, grinning around brown paper as Starscream started grinding on his hand. Megatron let the younger man have two fingers, his middle and ring fingers, drinking in the pleased sound his partner made as he gyrated on the digits. Starscream gasped when the thick fingers curled inside him. They pulled roughly at that spot a few times, the younger man's mewls of pleasure already growing desperate.

“My, my,” Megatron teased, “We can't even get through the evening news without your horny pussy needing to come?”

“I-I'm sorry,” was all the younger man could manage.

“Are you sure about that?” the teasing continued. “You seem pretty happy to fuck your pussy on my fingers.”

“Yes, yes,” came the immediate answer, Starscream pushing down hard. Megatron flexed and curled his fingers, pulling particularly hard at every curl. When his younger partner cried out, Megatron used fingers to batter the same spot that was giving his partner pleasure over and over until he felt the other's fluids gushing over his hand. The younger man knew he'd already made a mess of the leather, and he ground himself on it when he found himself bereft of massive fingers. He whined when he found very little pressure.

“It just squirted and it already wants more?” the brunette taunted.

“Please,” Starscream begged, rubbing himself desperately on the leather.

“Lay back against the arm and spread your legs.”

The younger man eagerly did as told, bearing himself to the other. He held his legs up, whining in his throat. His body jerked violently when the same two fingers found his hole again. Megatron quickly added a third, shoving them in deep, hard and fast. Curses and pleas fell from Starscream's lips, the frilly skirt held up by his throbbing erection, bouncing with every rough thrust of the fingers. The tight passage clenched down hard when Megatron forced in his smallest finger alongside the other three.

“Yes,” the older man hissed, “Your cute little pussy sure does love being stuffed full.”

The platinum blonde could only whine and writhe as he was pushed closer and closer to orgasm.

“I bet you could take my whole hand,” Megatron said, shoving his fingers in to the knuckle. The pressure was absolutely perfect, and Starscream knew he was any few thrusts from gushing all over the couch, but he was terrified that the older man might actually try to fit his whole hand, and looked at him as such. Megatron's grin was devious, but he promised, “I won't try tonight, my boy. I still want that pussy nice and tight when I stick my dick back in it.”

The dirty talk and increasingly rough finger-fucking pushed the pale man over the edge, his partner growling out his pleasure as his hand was sprayed with yet another wave of moisture, Starscream's shout caught in his throat. Once the tremors subsided, Megatron removed his fingers. He couldn't quite tell if the sound the thinner man made was one of relief or pleasure, but it didn't matter. He took the still-erect length from under the skirt, spreading Starscream's prefluids on it. He watched with glee as the younger man humped his hand, his hole still occasionally trying to clench on nothing.

“Ooh,” Megatron said in a teasing tone as the prick in his hand jumped, spilling over his thumb and the couch. “Naughty little boy made a really big mess.”

The older man wasted no time in getting up, pulling the lighter man out of his comfortable sag against the arm of the sofa and bending him over the front. “I guess he'll just have to clean it up,” he growled, positioning himself behind the other. Starscream whimpered, looking back over his shoulder. “Get to it,” Megatron ordered, shoving sharp features into the puddle on the couch.

As Starscream whined, lapping up whatever he could reach, his face already smeared in it, Megatron kissed and bit at the sharp, exaggerated shoulder blades before him. The whine he received when he forced Starscream's legs apart was even louder.

“Such a naughty fucking boy with an uncontrollably horny pussy,” the older man said, his grin stretched ear to ear. He rubbed the head of his cock against the puffy folds, loving the sounds Starscream could barely get out. “Don't worry,” he said, pushing just the head of his cock inside, “I won't let it go empty too long.” He waited a long moment, until the noises the younger man made seemed urgent, his lower half squirming. “Though you could stand to do some of the work.” He held still, waiting for the other to move. He wasn't disappointed. Starscream shoved back roughly, again and again, fucking himself on the half of the prick Megatron would allow. “You're still so fucking horny,” Megatron admired, spreading the younger man's cheeks with his thumb to watch him try to pleasure himself. “Don't you dare stop licking up your mess, you slut,” he barked, shoving his cock all the way in.

The younger man screamed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He kept rocking back on the stiff prick, the motion forcing his tongue into the leather with each of the older man's thrusts forward.

“Don't miss a single spot,” Megatron bit out, on the verge of his own orgasm. He grabbed a fist full of the shiny silver locks and forced the other's face into the crack between two cushions. “Eat it like you're eating pussy,” he ordered.

The fluttering passage and muffled moan were enough to push him between them to watch the inch or so of his wet dick that wasn't inside the other throb as he painted the other's insides. “Oh, yes. Be a good boy for me,” he cooed, shallowly thrusting until he slipped from the hole, his seed and even more of his partner's fluids following quickly. He sat back to admire the dripping hole and his partner's quivering form, still bent over and lapping at the couch. “Such a good boy,” he cooed, leaning forward to kiss one toned ass cheek. “You can stop now. We'll clean the rest with a towel,” he cooed, gently rubbing the outside of shaking thighs. Starscream heaved a sigh of relief and sat back, looking for a more comfortable position.

“Will... will you help me?” Starscream asked, too sore to even look back.

“Of course,” the older man said, trailing kisses up his lover's back, giving the most outstanding point of each shoulder blade its own loving peck. “Stay here, and I will be back.”

When the man returned, he tenderly cleaned the younger man, even taking off his heels and setting them aside. “It has been too long since we've taken care of each other like this,” he said when the silence stretched on too long.

As Starscream spoke, he tried to hide his face from the massive hands that traced his features with a baby wipe; “If you were home more often, we could do this more frequently.”

“I work, Starscream,” the older man said, a hint of a warning tone in his voice.

“You're supposed to be retired,” was the whined response.

“Someone has to feed your habit,” Megatron snapped. He instantly regretted his tone when the slender man flinched. “Beside that,” he quickly changed the subject through gritted teeth, “I still have too much energy to sit around all day and do nothing, and I'm still too young for the activities of seniors.”

Starscream's red eyes were half-lidded, a pout on his face that no amount of tender wiping would ease. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled once the cloth withdrew.

Megatron sighed heavily. “As am I,” he said, standing to toss the used wipe in the trash bin. He already had on sleep pants and offered the shirt to Starscream, who slipped into the massive thing without a word. “Do you want to go to bed?” the brunette asked.

“Yes,” Starscream said weakly.

* * *

A large hand shot out from under the blanket over his body as Ratchet's cellphone refused to stop ringing. Some patriotic country song that the man didn't even like signaled Optimus calling him. He gave an annoyed grunt, but answered anyway. “What're you doing, calling me at assfuck o'clock in the morning?” he grumbled.

“Ratchet,” the voice on the other line scolded, “It is nearly noon.”

“Oh, will ya look at that?” Ratchet said, pushing the blanket back to glare at the clock on his bedside stand.

“Nearly noon” by Optimus' standards appeared to be 11:09. Ratchet rolled his eyes.

“Are you alright?” the younger man asked. “I did not think you drank that much...”

“I didn't. I just like to sleep in on my days off.”

“Fair enough,” Optimus said, and Ratchet could swear he heard the other nod through the phone. “Well, I was just calling to make sure you were alright and had a good time last night.”

“It was fine, I guess,” the older man said, sitting up. He scratched his chest, popping one of the buttons on his nightshirt to do so. “But why'd ya gotta have me talk to some kids?”

There was a moment of silence.

“You should learn to talk to all sorts of people, Ratchet.”

“I talk to enough brats in my day job,” he grumbled, trying to smooth his hair back with his free hand.

“They are not  _ children _ ,” Optimus defended himself.

“Close enough. You can't tell me you'd be comfortable with me shagging one of them.”

The younger man sputtered, and Ratchet grinned at his little victory. “W-well, if you both gave consent, I suppose I could not do much about it.”

“Oh my god,” Ratchet groaned. “I can't do this right now. I haven't had any coffee yet.”

“Why don't we have lunch, then? I know you eat out too much, so I will bring a few things over and make something. You just make the coffee.”

Ratchet was silent for a long moment, feeling personally attacked.

“Are you still there, friend?”

“Yeah, fine.” Ratchet stood and stretched, groaning with the phone still up to his ear. “Just let me shower first.”

After he hung up, Ratchet threw his phone onto his bed and froze. He caught sight of himself in the mirror on his vanity and snippets of the previous night flooded his mind: The cute behind hanging out of too-small shorts, the teens holding hands under the table and talking in their own non-verbal language, the cold and calculating stare from the longer-haired teen. The last thought made him shiver. He laughed at himself for thinking even briefly that the boy could have been a spy. There was no way the boy was a day over nineteen unless he had been severely malnourished. Ratchet convinced himself, as he grabbed clean, casual clothes from one of the drawers in his vanity, that the boy was just sizing him up as a potential sugar daddy.

Elsewhere, Gravescour sneezed.

“That better not get in my food,” called an older woman's voice from a different room.

“No ma'am,” the teen called back, hurrying the bowl into the living room where his overly blonde, middle-aged mother sat, watching daytime television.

“What the hell is this?” the woman demanded, glaring down at it.

“It's goulash,” the teen explained.

“I don't want this,” she said, turning up a lip that was glossed with a color that didn't go with her skin tone. “It looks like something shit in a bowl. Make me something normal, like a sandwich. Or mac 'n cheese.”

The boy did his best not to roll his eyes. “Fine, I'll eat this, then.”

“Not until I get a sandwich I'm happy with, you won't!”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, sounding defeated.

* * *

The next day, the teens were excited to go to school, both of them brimming with excitement. Gravescour pulled up his hair in the bathroom on their lunch break, Riot dabbing makeup on the new bruises that peeked out of his shirt from his left shoulder.

“What happened?” Riot asked, his touch gentle.

“Mom didn't like her lunch,” the younger boy answered.

“Ugh,” the shorter boy complained, “she's such a piece of shit.”

“Forget about her,” Gravescour said, grinning. “The recruiters are still here, so we need to look nice.”

“I think you get off on defying authority figures,” the white-haired boy muttered.

“You're projecting so hard right now,” the goth teen teased.

“Shut up. You're the one that's gonna fuck him.”

“And you're the one that's gonna sit on my face while I do.”

“Dudes, stop,” the same teen from the last time they'd hung out in the bathroom said as he emerged from a stall. “Why do I always walk in on your shenanigans?” he complained.

“Because you use the bathroom we've claimed as our turf?” Riot said.

“That's fair, I guess?” the teen said as he washed his hands.

When they got to the mess, they took their usual seats, disappointed that Megatron wasn't there. The man in his place greeted Riot and spoke to him. They chatted a bit, and eventually the white-haired teen wrung information out of the man on where the scarred man was. He would only be working Thursday and Friday of that week, the last two days they'd have a booth set up in the mess.

Annoyed that their devious plans were foiled, the boys bought a tray full of fries and devoured it. Riot pushed himself and Gravescour that much harder when they worked out after school. He gave his slender friend a tight hug before he vanished to his dance class.

Tuesday was relatively uneventful, and Gravescour went home after working out with Riot. He wanted to go watch his friend's Capoeira lessons, but the other outright refused, his face matching his signature shades.

At his house, an unassuming, clean, two-story with white plastic siding and fake flowers in pots on the porch, Gravescour found the door locked. His mother didn't let him in when he knocked, so he shrugged and headed into town. He bought himself a new outfit, and jammed his school clothes in his bag. Knowing he was showing up early to the bar he frequented, he put on a deep red lipstick, wondering if he'd regret a seven credit purchase just for Breakdown.

He milled about where he knew the older man smoked, sucking down a few of his own while he waited for the familiar one-eyed face to show itself. When Breakdown finally popped out for a cigarette, the teen thought the man's face might crack in half with how wide his grin was.

“Well?” the boy asked, his hip cocked to one side, bag slung over his shoulder.

“You look cute tonight,” Breakdown purred, taking in the leggings and tank top. “What's with the bag? Got somewhere to be?”

“Gonna stay at a friend's tonight. Thought I'd make some money first,” Gravescour said nonchalantly.

“And you wore lipstick just for me.”

“I do want to get in early,” the teen said, walking up to place a hand on the older man's chest.

“Hell yes. C'mon in. I'll smoke later.”

Fifteen minutes later, Gravescour was complaining out loud to himself as he fixed his makeup in the mirror.

“Hey,” Breakdown said from his spot leaning against the row of sinks. The teen hummed a questioning note back. “You have a bruise on your jaw,” the redhead noted. “I didn't do that, did I? I thought I was gentle. I mean, I always try to be. I don't want to hurt you.”

The goth teen laughed, smearing his eyeliner. “Shit,” he complained, trying to fix it. “No, I already had it.”

“And you let me do that to your mouth, anyway?”

“I wanted to get in,” the teen explained.

“Yeah, but,” he trailed off, a frown etched into his features. “Did someone hurt you and I didn't catch it? You only work here, right?”

“I have a few clients I didn't pick up here, but no, none of them did it.”

“What happened?” the blue-clad man asked, reaching over to wipe away a thick and obvious spot of concealer. Icy blue eyes watched the fingers closely, his face stony. With a huff, Gravescour returned to covering his bruises better.

“Dodgeball is not my forte,” he lied.

Breakdown barked out a deep laugh. “Someone got you good, huh? Funny, you look like the type that would be good at dodgeball.”

Gravescour, despite the pain in his face, had to raise a brow as high as it could go.

“Well, you're tall and have some lean muscle. Ya know, like you can dodge, but you're not too weak not to throw back.”

“I can throw just fine, but I must need glasses, because I can't dodge for shit.”

Breakdown chuckled in response. “Well, I still feel bad about doing that to you while you're injured, so how about I get you a soda?”

“How about a mixed drink?” Gravescour shot back, a seductive grin on his freshly-painted lips.

“Now, I'll look the other way when you drink, but I won't be facilitating it.”

“Alright, alright. Let's just get out of the bathroom.”

Gravescour cursed his luck as every john that night seemed to want his dick sucked when his jaw was in pain. By the halfway point in the night, he'd only made three-hundred credits, and his face hurt despite the handful of mixers he'd had. The teen rubbed his jaw to try to ease the pain, taking a moment to himself to simply sit and sip a drink.

When he took a moment to look around, he noticed a familiar face at the table over, staring at him. Gravescour was sure he looked annoyed for a second, but quickly put on a cheerful smile and sauntered up to the man, taking his drink with him. He slid into the booth, sitting on the cushioned seat across from the other.

“Hi there,” Gravescour said. His painted lips molded around the brightly-colored straw in the even brighter beverage.

“I know you are not old enough to drink,” the white-haired man complained.

“No, but I'm cute, so men buy me drinks, anyway,” he said, one side of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Where's Optimus?”

“He's not here,” was the gruff response. “I have tomorrow off, so I thought I'd come out by myself tonight.”

The teen cocked his head, his hair falling over the makeup-covered bruises. “You didn't seem to be having much fun last time,” the boy noted.

“Yeah, well, I'm not exactly what you'd call 'social',” Ratchet groused. He stared the boy down, watching as the younger righted himself, exposing what looked like faint bruises.

“Then why'd you come back?” Gravescour asked. A predatory grin spread over painted lips that were puffy from overuse. “Couldn't get me out of your mind?” he cooed.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Ratchet said, picking up his mug to down what was left.

“There's no need to be shy about it,” the teen said with an honest laugh. Ratchet quickly flagged someone down for another beer. “You should buy me a drink,” Gravescour suggested.

“No, absolutely not,” Ratchet put his food down. “Why do you need to drink, anyway? You seem plenty confident. You don't need any liquid courage.”

The teen blinked. “So, you need to get drunk to flirt?” he asked.

“Hey, this isn't about me,” Ratchet said, tearing into his new drink. “I asked why a cute young thing like you with a bright future ahead of you is drinking.”

Gravescour laughed. It was a bitter thing, and Ratchet's blue-green eyes widened a bit. The teen delicately covered his mouth in response. “You called me 'cute',” he said.

“Yeah, well, it's true. That don't mean I'm hittin' on ya or anything,” he said, looking away.

“I don't mind,” the teen said, taking another sip from his drink.

“Yeah, well I do. I'm not gonna chat up someone half my age.”

“No one else seems to care.”

“Well, they should.” The white-haired man looked back at Gravescour then, finding the teen's eyes averted, lips back on the straw. “What happened to your jaw?”

“Oh dammit. It's showing again?” the slender teen asked, bringing his hand up to cover it.

“If you're hurt, you should be at home, recovering.”

“I'm fine,” Gravescour said, his voice a fake cheer. “It doesn't hurt, it's just ugly.”

Ratchet frowned. “You're not a very good liar,” he said.

“Can’t a guy just go out and have a good time?”

“You don't look like you're having a good time,” the older man said.

“We could ditch this place and have a good time somewhere else,” the goth boy suggested.

Ratchet looked at him for a long moment, and Gravescour found his shoulders hunching the slightest bit. “How old are you?” he finally asked, his tone almost accusatory.

“L-let's just say most of the guys that hit on me are into barely-legals.”

“Oh my god,” Ratchet whispered, the other more seeing than hearing the words in the noise of the bar. “You're not even eighteen?” he hissed.

“Hey! I said  _ barely _ legal!”

“Yeah, and you're a terrible liar!”

Gravescour stood. “I'm sorry to have bothered you,” he said, then downed the rest of his drink. As he turned to walk off, Ratchet raised his voice a bit.

“Sit your ass back down, young man.”

Not knowing what possessed him, he did as ordered. The raised voice caught Breakdown's attention and the redhead came jogging over.

“Is everything alright over here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine. But can I have my bag? I'm gonna leave soon.”

“Sure,” the one-eyed man said, narrowing his eyes at Ratchet. When he came back with the bag, he asked if he needed to call the boy a cab.

“No, I'm not in danger, just getting a lecture,” Gravescour said with a titter.

“Oh,” Breakdown said, looking over at Ratchet who looked both confused and miffed. “Well, good luck. Yell if you need me.”

“You know him?” Ratchet asked.

“We're friends, yes.”

“Ah, so that's how you get in.” The older man took a deep breath, his fingers tightening on his mug. “Look, I don't want to ruin your good time, but you send up all sorts of red flags. You're underage, dressed like a hooker, covered in bruises – I see more than just the two on yer face – and you're hitting on a grumpy old man.”

“That's called 'being a teenager',” Gravescour joked.

It pulled a laugh from the older man. “You're also a terrible liar.”

“You're just really observant.”

Ratchet frowned over his drink. “I get that you can't tell me what you're doing here, but, ya know, there's other ways of handlin' whatever you've got going on.”

“I came out here to have a good time,” Gravescour mumbled, trailing off.

“And you're honestly feeling so attacked right now?” The teen's laugh was so sudden that he snorted. “Hey, I'm not so old that I don't get on the internet every once in a while.”

A short silence passed between the two.

“Well, I'm going to go,” the teen said. “Before this gets any more awkward.” As he stood once more, he looked at Ratchet, his jaw set. “But, uh, can I ask you something before I leave?”

“You just did,” the older man teased. Gravescour huffed and stomped his foot, earning a deep, resounding laugh from the other. “Go ahead.”

“Did you come back here just to see me?”

Ratchet looked down then. The younger man smiled.

“Thanks. It's nice to talk to people who don't just wanna fuck me every once in awhile.”

Ratchet sputtered, his eyebrows blending into his skin at the bright red blush.

“Maybe I'll see you around,” he said, leaning over to kiss the older man's cheek. His face turning even redder, Ratchet waved the giggling teen away, hiding his face in what was left of his beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crits and comments welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more smut.

“Only three-hundred credits tonight,” the black-haired teen complained as he began the trek to his best friend's house. “I guess it's better than nothing, though,” he mumbled, hiking his bag farther up his shoulder as he walked. He took a long moment to simply enjoy the cool breeze on his overheated face.

Less than an hour later found Gravescour slipping into his friend's backyard, knowing exactly the path to take to avoid triggering the motion-detecting lights. He hauled himself up the tree that just barely reached the window to his friend's room. Tapping on the window, he waited.

“Dude, why didn't you text me?” Riot asked as he opened the window. “You know that tree is a dangerous climb alone,” he scolded, stepping back so the other could climb in.

“No it's not,” the slender teen said. “I'm just more limber than you are. Which is a little surprising, considering what sports you're in.”

“You're just a lanky mofo who is good at climbing trees and shit,” the white-haired teen complained. “I'm plenty limber.”

“Wanna prove it?” Gravescour teased, wiggling his brows.

The older bow huffed and looked away. “Maybe later,” he said, his arms crossed. “What happened?”

“Mom locked me out. Made some money, came over here.”

“It's earlier than you usually show up,” the shorter boy accused.

“Ran into Optimus' friend at the bar and got a lecture. Decided to call it an early night.” He sat his bag on the floor and flopped down on Riot's bed. He stretched and groaned something filthy. It did nothing to help Riot's blush.

“Lecture?” he asked, sitting next to the young man who took up most of his bed.

“Oh, ya know, underage drinking,” the slender teen said flippantly. He changed the subject, “You excited for Thursday?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Gravescour turned on his side to look at the other. “You _guess_?” he asked.

“W-well, I've been thinking about it and, ya know, what if he wants to fuck me, too?”

“You don't have to, ya know.”

“I know, but,” the platinum blonde trailed off for a moment. “D-do you really think I'd be able to say 'no'?”

“If you're uncomfortable, I'll speak up for you,” the goth boy promised.

“You're the best, man,” Riot said, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips. “But,” he whispered, “I kinda wanna try it.”

“Then go for it! Just stretch way the hell out first.”

“I, um, was thinking about asking you if I, uh, could try your toy. See what it's like.”

“When? Tonight? Tomorrow?”

“Now?” Riot asked. “Before I chicken out?”

Gravescour giggled in response. “Yeah, sure,” he said, turning over to reach off the end of the bed and fish the toy from his bag. “Get yours first, though. Need a good, long stretch for this,” he purred.

Riot silently did as told, coming back with the toy, lube and a towel, finding the younger boy sucking off the large toy. He shivered as he watched. It was pulled from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Get nekkid. Lay down and play with yourself a little. I'll help you out, don't worry.”

“Will you 'get nekkid' too? I don't like being nude alone, either,” Riot mumbled as he pulled off his shirt.

“Of course!” the younger teen cheered, flinging off his tank top. Riot couldn't help his amused huff.

Before long, both boys were completely nude, Gravescour between Riot's spread legs, watching the older boy ease two fingers into himself.

“Yeah, that's hot,” the younger encouraged, his hands on sturdy knees. “Go deeper.”

Riot tried not to shake as he did as told. He soon added a third finger, looking between them at his friend's straining length.

“Good,” Gravescour purred, “Use your toy now.”

Riot poured a fair bit of lube onto the slightly-above-average sized toy he had, watching the viscous liquid slowly dribble beyond his hand. He took a breath before bringing it between his thighs, the excited look on his friend's face egging him on. “Oh,” he said softly as the head breached him. He grit his teeth as he started to push it in.

“Hold up a sec,” Gravescour said, stroking a strong thigh. Riot stopped and looked up, confused. “May I?” the slender boy asked.

“I guess?” Riot took his hand from the toy, an awkward sensation as it sagged to the bed, still partially inside him. He tensed for a second when the younger teen gently lifted it, but the stroking to his thigh soothed him.

“Don't try to shove it in all in one go if you're not used to it,” he said, slowly rocking the first few inches in and out. Riot nodded silently, his hips shifting to be more accommodating. “Yeah, that's more like it,” Gravescour said, introducing a new inch of the toy every few thrusts. “Your pussy takes dick real good if you do it right.”

The dirty talk had the older boy squirming, pushing back on each thrust.

“Yeah, you like it, don't you?” Riot nodded again, not trusting his voice. “I'm gonna go a little faster now,” the slender teen warned before he picked up the pace.

Riot writhed, pushing back hard on the toy. He tensed and shuddered whenever the other gave it a slight twist. His mouth was open, panting.

“Ooh,” Gravescour said, catching the prone teen's attention, his voice devious. “This is a vibrator,” he noted.

“Oh shit,” was all the white-haired boy could get out before it was turned on to the lowest setting. He could feel himself getting close to an orgasm as the toy buzzed to life, being pushed deeply into an overly moist passage, hitting all the right spots whenever his friend gave a little twist. “Hey, I'm-”

“It's okay,” Gravescour cooed. “Please come for me. It'll be a lot easier to get the big one in if you're relaxed. Need me to rub your clit?”

Riot tried to shake his head in the negative but gave up. “Just turn it up, please.” When the younger boy did, Riot drew in a sharp breath, his whole body seizing up. “Push it in deep!” he gasped trying to keep his voice down.

Gravescour gladly did as told, watching the hole spasm around the violently whirring toy. “That's so hot,” Gravescour said, his voice breathy. He stroked himself absently with his free hand as he gave the toy a little twist with the other.

“Fuck!” Riot hissed, his legs closing on their own accord.

“Don't do that,” the younger teen said with a pout. “It's not very often I get to see you come with that hole.”

“I sit on your face all the time!” Riot hissed out, squirming at the vibration on oversensitive parts. “Okay, okay, take it out,” he pleaded.

“That's different,” Gravescour said as he eased the toy from a still-twitching hole. “I don't actually get to see you stuffed with dick.”

Riot huffed, red-faced. “Well, you're about to see me stuffed with the biggest one I've ever had, so...” he trailed off, huffing again.

“I'm excited,” the lanky teen growled, stroking his prick a few times to show the other what it was doing to him. The prone boy huffed out another curse. “I can't wait to see your pussy come on this huge cock,” he purred, picking up the larger toy.

“Just- just do it already, before I lose my nerve,” Riot demanded.

“Yes sir,” came the teasing response. He lathered the large toy with excessive lube, making filthy sounds as he did so.

“Will you just hurry up and-” the older boy cut himself off when he felt the head of the toy rubbing between his folds. He gripped the sheets, his knuckles white.

“Don't worry,” Gravescour promised, “I'll be gentle.”

Riot didn't say a thing in response, merely planted his feet on the bed and hoped his friend had room to work. He imagined Megatron's devilish grin as the cock-head breached him. He couldn't help but gasp, fighting to keep his legs from closing. Gravescour once more rocked the toy in, bit by bit.

“Oh god,” Riot whined, “It's so big.”

“It's a little more than halfway in,” the younger boy said, his voice dripping with lust. Riot could only curse. “Stuffed so full already and there's still so much to go...”

The words made the older boy squirm. He could feel himself clamping down hard on the intrusion. “More,” he bit out.

“You don't have to.”

“More,” he hissed. He cursed and jerked his hips as the lanky teen worked more inside. He was overwhelmed with sensation. Nearly pain, but mostly pleasure, his insides giving way to the massive toy. He squirmed, thinking about the older recruiter forcing him to take his dick. “All the way in,” he growled. Riot barely kept himself from howling when he felt fingers on his clit. He jerked into the touch, drawing in a deep breath when the last few inches of the toy were shoved inside.

“That's so fucking hot,” Gravescour said, just holding the toy in place, flicking two fingers quickly over his best friend's clit. “You're so wet, your pussy is stuffed so full,” he trailed off.

“Keep... keep talking dirty,” Riot asked weakly, grinding what little he could on the toy.

“You said you weren't made for dicks this big, but you just needed something that made you really wet. Your tight little hole is taking this huge cock so well,” he purred. He started to move the toy in and out a bit, and Riot had to bite a knuckle to keep from making loud noises. “You fucking love big dicks, your pussy is gonna come so hard on this massive thing,” he growled, his thrusts growing rough. “I wanna see it stretch oh-so-tight around this huge fucking cock.”

“Damnit,” Riot hissed at the first spasm of his second orgasm. He clawed at the sheets with one hand, his other shoving his knuckle as far into his mouth as he could manage. He whined at the pressure as he clamped down on the toy his friend kept shoving inside of him. The head of the toy caught something delightful every time it pulled outward and made the spasms that much harder.

“That's so fucking hot,” Gravescour praised, easing up his thrusts as the spasms slowed. “God damn,” he whispered as he eased the toy out of his friend. He wanted to put his fingers inside the fucked-out hole, but resisted, giving his friend a moment to come down. “Hey, uh, you don't mind if I jerk off, do you?”

“Go right ahead,” the lighter-haired boy said with a weak chuckle, his chest heaving.

Gravescour wasted no time in wrapping his hand around his length, stroking himself quick and rough as he looked intently at his friend's occasionally clenching hole. It didn't take long for him to rub one out, intentionally spilling his seed over his friend's puffy folds and thighs, earning himself a grunt.

“I need to shower now,” the older boy complained, pushing his sweaty hair back out of his face.

“How'd it feel?”

“Better than I thought, honestly, but I don't know if I'll be able to walk right for the rest of the night.”

Gravescour laughed, flopping down beside his friend. He reached between the other's legs to fondle his clit, the older boy gasping and turning away.

“I don't think I can do six orgasms in a row like you do,” he complained.

“Damn,” Gravescour said with a pout. “At least it was good, right?”

“Yeah,” the older boy said, a lopsided smile on his relaxed face. “Oh,” Riot said after a long moment.

“Mmm?” the younger teen asked.

“I don't see you get off with your dick much, so that was kinda neat,” the older boy noted. Gravescour snorted. “I dunno why, but watching you take that got my dick more interested than anything else. Lol, like it thinks it's big enough to do that to you, or something.”

“I mean,” the older boy said a bit awkwardly, “I'm sure your dick would do just fine... I just, ya know, don't usually...”

“Yeah, I know,” the goth teen said with a small smile. “Go get cleaned up so we can cuddle and sleep. I'm tired.”

“It's not even ten,” Riot complained.

“Fine, so I can sleep and you can do whatever.”

Riot scoffed. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, getting up. He took the towel with him and wiped himself down. “I think, if I hurt at all tomorrow, I'm gonna opt out of Megatron's dick.”

“Understandable,” the younger boy said with a nod.

* * *

When Thursday rolled around, both teens were entities of pure nervous energy. Riot wore pants that were just a little too tight, and Gravescour opted for leggings and a soap blouse so he could still follow the school's dress code. Megatron gave the boys a smirk as soon as they entered the mess. The two ate, chancing glances at the older man every now and then, finding him staring hungrily when he wasn't talking to a potential recruit.

As lunch rounded out, the brunette reminded the boys; “I'm here until five.”

They shivered, giggling as they made their way to classes.

After their workout, the boys walked out of the locker room fresh and clean, only to find Megatron and Arcee talking in the hallway.

“Hello, boys,” Megatron greeted.

“Hey, what's up?” Arcee asked, a hand on her hip. Her short, blue hair was also freshly-cleaned and stuck out at all angles.

“Oh, we're just waiting,” Gravescour said, giving a shy smile.

“For what, this lug?” Arcee asked, hooking her thumb over her shoulder in the older man's direction.

“Yup,” the slender teen said. “Riot's joining the AirForce, so he's chomping at the bit to ask a veteran a ton of questions.”

Arcee cocked her head for a second before a bright smile broke out on her face. “Riot,” she scolded, but her voice quickly changed to one of cheer. “Why didn't you tell me? I could tell you everything you need to know!”

“Oh, I thought you were Army, ma'am,” the shorter teen said, the bridge of his nose dusting with a blush.

Megatron couldn't help but laugh. Arcee didn't know what to make of the situation and simply raised a brow. “Nope,” she said, “Optimus and I were in the same unit. That's how I wound up teaching here,” she explained.

“Wow, really?” Gravescour asked, hiking up his bag, “That must've been an interesting experience!”

Arcee barked out a laugh. “Are you joining too, 'Scour?” she asked.

The raven-haired boy opened his mouth to say something, but Megatron interrupted, putting his hand on Arcee's shoulder. “Riot and I have been trying to convince him, but he seems dead-set on college,” the man said, keeping his smile soft as he could manage.

“Well, there's nothing wrong with that,” Arcee said, nodding. “Don't put too much pressure on him, Megs. I know how you can be,” she continued, stepping out of his touch.

“You'd have to worry more about Riot talking me into it than him,” Gravescour said, sticking his tongue out.

“You go easy on him too, ya hear? Service ain't for everyone.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Riot muttered, his face still red. The bluenette clapped a hand on each boy's shoulder, startling them both.

“Well, now that the gym is empty, I gotta get it cleaned up so I can go home. You boys take care now,” she said, smiling in a way that made her bright blue eyes crinkle slightly around the edges. “Take care of yourselves,” she said.

The boys gave a nod, and she watched them walk away with Megatron, not liking how close the boys were to hanging off of him. When they couldn't see, she frowned and took her phone from her gym shorts' pocket.

“Eager to go on another tour of the base, are you?” the brunette teased.

“You could say that,” Gravescour gave as good as he got. “Riot is eager to see the... operations.”

“Is he now?” Megatron asked, a brow raising as he turned to look at the shorter boy who hid his heated face. “It only makes sense,” he said, lifting a massive paw to pet the light locks, “since he plans to be an airman and all.”

“Maybe you could treat us to a glimpse at the personal quarters?” the slender teen hinted.

“I don't see why not,” the older man said, leading them both to his car. “Would the same place as last time be acceptable?”

Riot sat silently in the back seat letting his younger friend speak for him for the moment.

“That'd be just fine,” Gravescour said, a hand already on a thick thigh. The older man turned red eyes down to look at the slender hand, a grin splitting his features.

“Very well,” he said.

Once in their room, Riot seemed to almost be trembling. Megatron took his chin in hand gently, lifting his head.

“There's no need to be afraid, sweet thing,” he said softly.

“I-I'm not afraid,” the platinum blonde sputtered.

“Oh?” the older man asked, slowly turning the boy's face this way and that to take a good, long look at his features. “That's good, then. I wouldn't want any potential partners to be afraid of me.” He let go of the older teen when Gravescour wrapped his arms around the man's bulk from behind. Megatron stiffed a bit, but played it off as surprise when he turned toward the younger boy. “Don't tell me you're getting jealous already?” he asked with a dark chuckle. “There's plenty of me for both of you.”

“Is there, now?” Gravescour teased, winking. “With what you said last time...”

“Ah, yes,” the brunette said, sharp teeth exposed as he smiled. “I have been called a one man army before.”

The slender teen giggled and drew back out of the other's reach. He sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes. “Riot,” he whined, “Come over here and join me.”

The older boy did as told, shedding his jacket and shoes along the way.

“You're being so shy,” the slender boy teased, pulling the boy down on top of him. Before Riot could answer, he was being kissed. He soon gave himself over to his best friend's lips, the kisses turning messy. Open-mouthed and wet. Megatron growled low in his throat as he rid himself of his suit jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair.

“You both look so lovely,” the man said, kicking off his shoes. He peeled off his socks before coming to the side of the bed. “But you're making me feel lonely now.”

Riot shivered at the tone, and Gravescour rubbed a hand up and down his back soothingly.

“Could I have some attention, too?” the older man asked, freeing himself from his slacks.

Gravescour had never seen Riot's eyes quite so wide. The white-haired boy gave a little whimper when they were presented with the massive prick, already leaking at the tip when Megatron gave himself a firm stroke.

“Give it a taste, sweetheart,” Megatron cooed, trying not to grin at the fearful expression.

“If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to do it,” the younger teen promised, keeping a hand on his friend's back as he moved to start lapping at one side of the length.

“I-I'm fine. Just surprised,” Riot said before joining in. Megatron practically purred when the older boy went straight for the drop of precum that threatened to drip. Riot jumped when a meaty hand found the top of his head and started petting.

“It's okay,” the older man said, stroking the soft, multi-colored locks.

Gravescour whined, drawing red eyes to him. He had his free hand down the front of his leggings, the motion making it clear that he was fingering himself.

“Mmm, just seeing it makes your little boypussy horny, doesn't it?” The goth teen moaned and nodded. “Well, get me nice and wet, boys. We can talk price while you take off your clothes.”

Riot almost choked, having forgotten entirely about that element. Gravescour took a turn at the tip, and the older man used that opportunity to grab a fist full of black hair and shove his dick past the boy's lips. Both teens moaned.

“Yes, I think now is a good time to do that,” he said when he pulled back. He unbuttoned his shirt, but left it on. “What am I looking at; three-hundred each, plus dinner?”

Riot simply blinked. He didn't know much about what his friend charged.

“I usually charge five-hundred, but I'm willing to go that low with dinner.”

“U-uh, sure?” was all Riot managed. Gravescour pulled his shirt off, then started clawing at his friend's clothes. Tight tank, gone. Tight pants, gone. Shortly, they were both nude, watching as the older man slipped out of his pants. “Fuck, he's hot,” Riot whispered, earning himself a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Gravescour agreed breathlessly, already fingering himself again. “Now you can see why my pussy gets so wet every time I think about him.”

Riot shivered, closing his eyes for a moment. He wasn't exactly sure what to do.

“Still nervous, sweet boy?” the older man asked, cupping Riot's chin.

“W-well, I'm new to this,” he admitted, trying to duck his head.

“Oh?” Megatron asked, his dick throbbing at the admission. “How new?”

“You'll be his first customer,” Gravescour managed.

Megatron grunted in response, reaching down to give himself a rough stroke. “Delightful,” he growled. He moved forward, giving the younger teen a slight push back onto the bed. Said teen splayed his legs so the older man could see him going to town on himself. “I'll deal with your horny pussy first so you can calm down long enough to help me pleasure your friend,” he said, yanking Gravescour closer by his ankles.

“Yes, please!” the teen gasped as his friend watched in awe. “I need it so bad. Every time I think about your massive cock, I get so horny I can't think straight. My fingers aren't enough! I need it! I need that huge prick in my pussy, please!” Gravescour's begging was making even Riot's dick throb.

Megatron shooed away the teen's hand, the boy whining when he had to remove his fingers from himself. Megatron rubbed the head of his cock between the folds until the younger teen opened his mouth to speak. He then shoved home in one go, the smaller man biting through his lip in an attempt to stifle his scream. Riot thought for sure his friend was hurt, holding his hands out for the younger man. The dark-haired teen's cry of “ohh yes” caught him off-guard, as did the way slender hands grabbed him and pulled him close with surprising force.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” poured from the teen's mouth, the cut from his teeth luckily not a deep one. Barely a drop of blood welled up, smeared when his lips came together as he begged.

Megatron held his ankles, plowing into the smaller body, taking great joy in his cries, in the way he clung to the more muscular youth. The “fuck me” mantra turned into “I'm gonna come” as Riot reached a shaky hand down to rub his friend's clit. Gravescour whined, giggled, licked his lips and looked up at Riot with adoration.

“I'd ask you to kiss me,” he managed shakily, “but I'd probably bite you right now.”

“That's fine,” the white-haired teen breathed before fitting their mouths together roughly. Gravescour screamed into his friend's mouth as he came, gushing over the unrelenting prick. The boy clawed at his best friend's back and hair as the older man didn't let up, and bit into Riot's lip. The older teen moaned, his hand stopping mid-rub, earning a drawn out whine. After a long moment, Megatron pulled out, his length glistening with the younger teen's fluids. When the teens parted, they were both panting, lips smeared with a minute amount of blood. Nothing worrying, but the sight made Megatron's cock jump in anticipation.

“I didn't know you were a biter,” the older man teased.

“Neither did I,” Riot said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

“Sorry,” the slender teen said breathlessly.

“You learn something new every day,” Megatron said on a chuckle. “Still nervous, sweetheart?” he asked Riot, reaching out to pet his hair.

“Uh, yes,” the boy answered honestly.

“You don't have to take it all if you don't want to,” Megatron offered.

“Don't you dare 'just the tip' me. I swear,” Riot said, letting his mouth run away in his nervousness. The brunette barked out a laugh.

“No, no,” he said with a shake of his head, his short hair sticking to his forehead with the sweat that built up. “I merely meant to suggest that he could lick and suck on what won't fit in you, should you be willing.”

Riot looked over at Gravescour, the other boy finally able to move a bit. He had a brow slightly raised.

“Well, it's not like I haven't had his face down there before,” the shorter teen said with a shrug. Megatron nearly purred at the thought.

“I think that's something I might like to see before we move on,” he suggested, easing the pale legs in his grasp into a resting position. “Are you up for it, sweet boy?”

“I'm always up for Riot sitting on my face.”

“Ah geez,” the older boy said, his shoulders hunched.

“Come up here. I don't want to move just yet,” the younger teen said with a breathless laugh. Riot huffed, trying to build up the nerve. “It's okay,” Gravescour said, rubbing a hand along a well-muscled thigh. “You don't have to do anything you don’t want to. I promise.”  
  
“Put more of your weight on your friend’s face, let his tongue get in there nice and deep,” Megatron ordered softly, kneeling between Gravescour's legs to gently push the muscled thighs apart, making him rest more of his weight on his friend. When the goth teen moaned into him, Riot gasped. “Feels good, doesn't it?” he asked, moving a hand to carefully rub the older teen's swollen nub with his thumb.

“Oh,” Riot said, having to brace himself on Megatron's shoulders.

“Yes, lean on me, sweetheart,” the older man cooed, rubbing a little harder. Before long, the assault of the thumb and tongue had him having to bury his face in a thick neck. “Do you come on your friend's face often?” Riot couldn't answer, only whimper. “Oh my. Too much for you already?”

“N-no!” Riot gasped. He rubbed his face in the sweat-slicked muscle. “I- I just-”

“Shh,” Megatron soothed, moving closer to take more of the teen's weight. “You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Lean on me. Yeah, that's it, sweet boy. Sweet little boy,” he cooed. “I'm going to finger you now, with the help of your friend's tongue.”

Riot could only nod, the older man feeling more than seeing it. The first finger had Riot whimpering, rubbing his cheek on the old scar above the man's left nipple. A second had him lifting his head to cry out. Megatron chuckled, curling his fingers.

“Oh god,” Riot rasped. He pushed back on Gravescour's face, whining.

“Can you breathe back there?” Megatron asked. Gravescour hummed an affirmative, holding up a thumb. The older man chuckled again. “Good, because your friend is about to come all over your face.”

Riot drew in a shark breath at that, the sound turning into a cry as thick digits wiggled, doing things to his insides that he'd never felt before. “Oh god, oh god,” he repeated, humping back on the face and fingers, his hole twitching and convulsing with pleasure. After a moment, he jumped up, overstimulated. He pushed Megatron's hand away from himself, whining low in his throat.

The older man clicked his tongue. “Not much for multiple orgasms?” he asked. Riot only shook his head. “Alright, take a break, sweetheart. I bet your friend's little pussy is dripping wet after all of that. Isn't it?” Megatron asked, smirking down at the younger boy when Riot moved to lay down.

“I'm good to go again if you are,” he said, one shoulder drawn up to his cheek.

“Why don't you let me get a taste of your friend?” the muscular man asked, leaning down to swipe his tongue at Gravescour's lips.

“Hey, don't you know you're not supposed to kiss a pro?”

Megatron actually frowned. “A sweet little thing like you? I can make an exception if you can,” he offered.

“Mmm,” Gravescour hummed, his lips firmly closed, showing his true age.

Megatron laughed. “Fine, but I can still lick your friend's orgasm off of your face, right?” he asked.

“That's fine, yeah,” the younger teen answered with a nod.

“Good,” the brunette growled, taking a hold of the slim chin. Gravescour whimpered as the bigger man's thumb landed directly on an old bruise, but he bit it back before the other noticed, too intent on tasting Riot's orgasm off of the younger teen's face. The raven-haired boy let out a sigh of relief when Megatron's let him go. “Now, how about-” He looked between them, noticing the slender teen's length had started to soften. “Aww, baby,” he cooed, lifting the other's length to stroke it gently. “Not into me anymore?” he teased with a pout that looked out of place on his face.

“I am, don't you worry, Hot Dick,” Gravescour said, sticking his tongue out, earning a snort from both of his current partners, “You don't really need my dick to be into the action, do ya? It's the horny pussy underneath that matters.”

“I suppose not,” the older man said, giving the length a few more strokes to plump it back up, “But it does look nice, laying against your slim little belly while I fuck you.”

Gravescour giggled, then reached out for Riot, who willingly came. They kissed softly while the brunette eased his fingers back inside the younger teen. Before long, he was squirming on them, moaning into Riot's mouth as the older teen reached down to stroke the slender length, giving Megatron a show.

“Ngh,” Gravescour complained, “Why do you both care so much about my dick tonight?” He wriggled in his spot, trying to escape either one of the pleasures to his lower body.

“I like watching you feel good,” Riot admitted, his lips against his friend's ear. With a barely audible little noise, the slender teen came, pushing up into the channel his friend's thicker fingers made, his seed spilling over his hand.

“You are very pretty when you come,” Megatron said, twisting his fingers sharply, making the younger boy keen. “Do you think you'll be ready to try me soon?” he asked, taking his fingers from inside Gravescour to rub the boy's fluids over his prick. “I would like to come soon. I've been waiting an awfully long time.”

“I- I- um, I'll try,” Riot answered, suddenly shy again.

“Don't worry, sweet boy. I promise I won't ask you to take more than you can handle,” the brunette said, helping Gravescour move away so he could focus on Riot, leaning the lighter-haired boy back against a stack of pillows, propped up against the headboard. He made quick work of fingering Riot open, the goth teen holding the boy close, letting him dig his teeth into his sharp collarbone when four fingers bordered on too much. The taller boy petted his friend's hair lovingly, wiping away tears that escaped half-lidded red eyes, promising him he could stop at any time. His rings caught in Riot's hair once, and the younger boy apologized profusely. Riot mumbled that he kinda liked it into his friend's shoulder, clearly embarrassed. He whined when the thick fingers were removed and covered his face when he saw what the older man did with them.

First, he took a taste for himself, licking his smallest finger clean, then shoved the other three in Gravescour's all too willing mouth.

“Enough fooling around,” Megatron declared, moving between Riot's legs. He hiked the one opposite Gravescour over his hip, nudging the still-tight hole with the head of his leaking cock. Riot whimpered as he was spread open, clinging to his slender friend. “Oh, so wonderfully tight, precious boy,” the older man cooed. He made to push deeper, but Gravescour's hand on his stomach stopped him. He looked down at the other with a raised brow.

“Rock it in gently,” he ordered, “A little at a time.”

Megatron almost scoffed, wanting to just shove his prick into the practically virgin passage. But, remembering the knife he'd felt on the boy in their last intimate encounter, he relented. “Of course,” he cooed, rocking his hips in the tiniest movement.

Riot whined, digging his nails into his friend's shoulders. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly.

“Shh, it's alright. Bear down on his big dick,” Gravescour suggested. “It'll get much easier.”

The feeling of Riot squeezing only a few inches of his stiff, leaking prick made Megatron moan. He had to brace himself on the headboard to keep from forcing his dick into the tightening passage. He managed to rock another couple inches inside before he grew impatient.

“Boy,” he hissed, looking at Gravescour, “Come lick and suck what I can't fit in your friend. I want to come.”

“One sec,” the slender teen said. “Are you okay with him coming inside you?” he asked, stroking Riot's hair.

“I-I- y- I guess? I'm on the pill, so...” he trailed off.

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” Megatron said, the thrusts of half his cock growing rough.

“Just do it!” Riot cried. “I want to know what it feels like.”

Gravescour gave the older teen a kiss on the cheek then vanished behind the older man. The slender teen shimmied between Megatron's thick thighs, appreciating them with his fingertips. He leaned up to lick and suck at the thick, throbbing portion of the prick that wasn't inside Riot.

“Yes, that's nice,” Megatron hissed. “Mm, so sweet, so small. Good boys,” he rambled. He tried to thrust deeper, but the younger teen's growl stopped him, made him shiver. He decided he'd question that later. “I hope you're ready, sweet boy. Your tight pussy is too much for me,” the brunette growled. “Do you think you can come on it? I'd love to see you squirt while I'm pumping you full of come.”

“I- I don't...”

“Let me help,” he growled, bringing his thumb down to Riot's clit, rubbing roughly. The white-haired boy screamed, clamping down on the massive, throbbing prick, earning him a deep and rumbling groan. “Aww,” Megatron sounded a bit disappointed, “Not a squirter, huh? That's fine. You can squirt my cum out once I'm finished.” With a few more thrusts, pushing his luck, he found his peak, digging his fingers so hard into the headboard that it dented, the cracking noise loud in the little room. “Yes,” he hissed, “Take your first load of cum, sweet little boy.”

Riot whimpered, trying to squirm away from the thumb still stimulating him. He cried out when Megatron eased out, once more trying to push the bigger man's hand away.

“Can you come for me again, sweetie?”

Riot only shook his head, pushing harder. Gravescour gave a rough nip to the older man's softening cock, distracting him from Riot. Megatron's cock jumped against the teen's lips and they stared each other down for a long moment. He didn't know why he found the boy's cold and hateful gaze such a turn-on, but he did, and he relented, letting Riot curl up on his side with his hands covering his intimate parts.

“My, you're bold,” the brunette noted, grinning down at the boy between his legs. He considered sitting on his chest and forcing the young man to suck him off, but gave up on the thought when the black-haired teen huffed and shimmied out from under him.

“Riot,” Gravescour started, laying on the bed behind the other teen, not yet touching him. “Are you alright?”

The other teen nodded. “I'm not hurt,” he said, “Just overstimulated.”

“I'm sorry I pushed you too hard, sweetheart,” Megatron said, taking a seat next to the boys in an effort to look less intimidating. “Do you need help washing up? I promise I won't get handsy.”

“I'll be alright,” the platinum blonde promised, finally sitting up. “Man, this leaking is a weird sensation.”

Gravescour giggled and Megatron chuckled. “As long as you're not in pain,” the older man said, trailing off.

“No, I don't think so.”

“Good,” the brunette said with a firm nod. “You two go get showered first. I'm going to enjoy a cigar.”

Gravescour helped Riot into the shower. “Seriously, are you alright?” he asked, scrubbing himself down quickly, trying his best to avoid getting his hair wet.

Riot chuckled. “I'm fine,” the older boy assured him. “I honestly think my hips hurt more than my poon.”

“Do you need help with-”

“Nah, I got it. I kinda just wanna enjoy the hot water anyway. Go on, get.”

“If you say so,” the younger teen said, clearly uncertain.

“Really, I'm fine,” the shorter man stressed. “You know I can't lie about this stuff to you.”

“That's true,” Gravescour said, patting himself dry. “If you're okay, then I'm gonna go steal a few puffs of his cigar.”

“Have fun,” the white-haired teen said with a snort.

Back in the room, Gravescour found the comforter pulled from the bed, so he hopped right on to the clean sheets, making sure to announce himself behind the bulky man. “Can I have a puff of that?” he asked, crawling over to the older man's side.

“Sure, PeachyKeen,” the bulky man said with a wicked smirk, holding the burning paper out. With his hand a few inches from the tobacco, the youth froze. “Are you surprised I know who you really are?” he taunted, pushing the cigar into the younger man's hand. Gravescour took a puff, his eyes that cold stare again. “I didn't realize it was you until we were intimate that first time,” the older man said, leaning his elbows on his knees, “But I'm a big fan.” His grin was something evil.

“Cool,” Gravescour said, blowing out smoke.

“Does he know?”

“Of course he does,” the black-haired teen said. “We've known each other for several years. That's also still my legal name. I can't legally change it for another five or so months.”

“Oh, that's unfortunate,” Megatron cooed.

“I don't know why you felt the need to bring that up,” the icy-eyed boy said, “You're already fucking me at a discount.”

Megatron frowned, not getting the reaction he'd hoped for. “You were cuter as a blonde.”

“Kids grow up, styles change.” He hit the cigar again before he handed it back. “I can't be that cute little kid forever.” He grinned then. “But you've still got five months left to get your freaky rocks off with me,” and he winked, sticking out his tongue.

It hit Megatron after dinner that Gravescour reminded him of Starscream, and he slammed his fist on the dash. He took a deep breath, glad no one was around to see him lose his cool. He grit his teeth and headed home.

Once there, the older man threw his keys on the table. He wanted a stiff drink and time to brood, but apparently the man he'd been thinking about the entire ride home wasn't having it.

“Welcome home, darling,” Starscream said from the kitchen. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his ever-present off-duty heels on his delicate feet. He wore the pink apron over his casual clothes. Megatron grunted out a greeting. “Dinner's almost done.”

“I'm not hungry,” Megatron said, rifling through the cabinet for his whiskey.

“O-oh, that's alright. I'll just pack it up for later, then.”

“You can eat.”

“I'll wait.”

“Just eat,” the brunette growled.

“You could give me a snack,” the platinum blonde said, poking the tips of his index fingers together.

Megatron narrowed his eyes. “I'm not in the mood.”

“It doesn't have to be a grand display,” the younger man said, splaying his hands. “I can just blow you.”

With his glass of whiskey in one hand, the bottle in the other, the older man looked annoyed. “Fine,” he said, setting his items down on the table. He unzipped his pants and took out his flaccid length.

Starscream knelt before him, putting the slender hands on meaty thighs. The younger man leaned forward as he took the veiny appendage in hand. He stroked it gently, smiling nervously up at the older man as he drank. When the organ started to plump, Starscream took the head in his mouth and suckled. He grimaced and pulled back. “You taste like...”

“Like what?” Megatron growled.

“Like- w-well, like pussy,” the younger man said, pushing the long strip of red hair back.

“I bet you'd like the taste of someone else's pussy on my dick, wouldn't you?”

“W-what? No! I would most certainly _not_ like that,” the thinner man said with a shake of his head. “I don't want your dick in anyone else's pussy but mine. Is mine not good enough? Why do you taste like-” Starscream yelped when whiskey splashed over the length in his hand, splattering him in the process.

“There,” Megatron said, gritting his teeth when he wasn't speaking, “Now it tastes like booze. You should love that.”

Tears welled up in the slender man's eyes when he sat back. “Why are you being so mean to me today?” he asked quietly.

“I told you that I wasn't in the mood.”

“W-well, we could just-”

“I want to be alone for a bit, Starscream.”

“Alright,” the younger man said, standing. “I'll pack a bag.”

Megatron wanted to say something, anything. He felt like a fool with his half-erect penis laying over whiskey splattered slacks and his lover walking away. Instead, he packed himself up and took a long pull from the bottle, retiring to the safety of his study.

* * *

Ratchet only heard his phone ring because the television program he was watching was in a tense moment, nothing making sound but the low, dramatic music. With a grunt, he stood, turning off the TV. He walked to the kitchen where he'd left his cellphone while making his popcorn earlier. He hurried, recognizing the only heavy metal song assigned to one of his contacts.

“Starscream,” he said as soon as he answered. “It's been a few months.”

“Y-yeah,” the higher voice said quietly. “Sorry I haven't called lately. I've been trying to patch things up with Megatron.”

“Doesn't sound like it's going so well,” the older man said, his deep frown obvious in his voice.

“I mean, I thought it was going well, but tonight he's just...” the voice trailed off.

After a few seconds of silence, Ratchet could hear a sniffle and the distinct sounds of the younger man trying to pull his phone away from his face before anyone else could hear it. He cursed under his breath, waiting for Starscream to put the phone back to his ear.

“Did he hit you?” Ratchet asked.

“No! N-no. He really didn't, Ratchet, I swear.”

The older man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Good,” the older man said tersely, “Because if he had, I'd kill him. I mean it this time, Star.” Ratchet ran a hand over his tired face. “Are you good to drive, or do you need me to come pick you up?”

“U-um, well...” And there was a knock at the door.

Ratchet chuckled. “I'll come unlock the door.”

As soon as he saw the younger man, his shoulders hunched, still in his whiskey-splashed clothes, Ratchet hung up the phone.

“I thought you said he didn't hit you. Why are your clothes wet?” the older man started questioning as he waved the younger man in. “Did he throw something at you?”

“No,” the slender man said, taking off his heels.

“You smell like booze.”

“It's a long story.”

“You didn't drive here drunk, did you?”

“No, but I could use a drink.” Starscream hugged himself, leaning back against the door.

“I got some beer in the fridge,” Ratchet offered. “You can tell me what happened over a few.”

“Thank you,” the younger man mumbled.

“Yeah, whatever,” the white-haired man grumbled, motioning for the other to follow him. “Don't thank me yet. I might still kill your man.”

Starscream laughed awkwardly, trying to figure out if Ratchet was joking or not. He gave up when a cold beer was thrust into his hand.

“You want a dry shirt? I'd offer pants, but mine are too big.”

“N-no, thank you. You're already doing enough.”

“Us airmen gotta look out for each other,” Ratchet said with a shrug, popping the tab of his own beer.

There was a short silence as Starscream sipped.

“So, what happened?”

Ratchet was wincing by the time the younger man was done telling the story, in full gory detail of the smell and taste that led to the fight.

“I don't know why you put up with him,” the older man said, his crow’s feet looking pronounced with his sour expression. “You gotta leave him. You've probably got ulcers from this shit. Don't think I haven't noticed how much weight you've lost. Hell, I'll probably get an ulcer from worryin' about you.”

Starscream looked guilty, down into his can, his shoulders to his ears.

“Star, I don't mean to say anything bad about you. You know I care about you, damnit.”

“I know,” the younger man said.

Ratchet grabbed himself another beer and leaned against the island that separated the kitchen from the dining room. “So what's he holdin' over ya?”

“What?”

“You know you can stay in my spare bedroom for a while and I ain't gonna ask nothin' of ya but to clean up after yourself. You make your own money, you still have a career. Ya only got another, what, three years or so until you're set for life? So what is it?”

The younger blonde could only sputter.

“Did you kill someone?”

“W-what?! No!”

“Is it drugs?”

Starscream was silent.

“Primus Christ, Starscream,” Ratchet grumbled. The younger man didn't even try to defend himself. “What drugs?” No answer. “You gotta tell me, Star. You know I ain't no narc.”

After a long moment, Starscream mumbled, “Just serotonin and vicodin.”

Ratchet took a deep breath and sighed it out through his nose. “Alright. If that's all it is, that's not too bad. You can get through that.”

The younger man still didn't say anything.

“You can get serotonin yourself if you say you're having trouble sleeping, and you'll just have to deal with painkiller withdrawals for a few days.”

“It's not even that,” the slender man said, hugging himself again, awkwardly with a beer in his hand.

“Then what is it?”

“I love him.”

Ratchet downed the rest of his beer and quickly tore into another, bumping the refrigerator door shut with his hip.

“You're drinking a lot,” Starscream noted, looking away from the older man.

“I'm trying to get over the legal limit so I'm not tempted to drive up there and kick Megatron's sorry ass.”

Starscream felt oddly flattered, though more awkward than anything else.

“Look, I know you have feelings for him, but he only hurts you. Don't fool yourself with the 'good times' B.S. I know you're going to give me.”

“How the hell are you so observant?” the younger man asked with an awkward chuckle.

“I've seen it before, Star.”

There was a long silence, the only sounds in the room the ticking of the clock and two men sipping from cans.

“I'll think about it,” Starscream said.

“I hope you mean that this time.”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“My place is your place,” Ratchet said with an outstretched arm. When the younger man ran off, the retired airman took his beer to the couch and sat down heavily. He heaved a sigh of equal weight. “What am I gonna do with you?” he asked himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome.
> 
> Horny summer! Horny summer!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: attempted rape

The next month was a terrible one for Gravescour. If he went home at all, he risked being beaten, and the bruises were becoming too much to hide with concealer, so he just stopped going home. To say he was miffed was putting it lightly. Usually his mother, cruel as she was, left him alone to study. Not this time. Not with possibly the most important exams of his life coming up. He spent as many nights as he could at Riot's, always sneaking in the window if it was already dark. He spent many other nights studying in all-night cafes. Others still, he worked the bar, saving up cash in case he needed to get a hotel room during exams week.

One of those particular nights, he'd headed out to the bar after the bottle blonde took out her frustration on him, blaming him for her inability to wear midriff-exposing clothing. She'd decided that if she couldn't wear anything skimpy, he wouldn't either.

Breakdown saw the bruises as the boy approached, and took his fifteen anyway. He turned down the usual fare, sadness etched on his features. He stood with the teen in the bathroom as the younger man emptied a bottle of concealer, covering at least the marks on his face. “Maybe you shouldn't be out tonight,” the redhead said, watching the boy fuss over his makeup, lining his eyes thickly.

“I'm fine,” was all the younger said at first. After a moment of silence, he continued, “It's not that big of a deal. I can still walk. I'm still down to blow you, if you want.”

Breakdown shook his head. “I don't think I can get it up, knowing you're in pain. That doesn't do it for me.”

“I can pretend I'm not in pain for five minutes.”

“I feel a little insulted,” the older man grumbled.

Gravescour laughed. “I'm fine, really.”

“Your eyes say otherwise,” Breakdown said, his arms crossed.

The teen huffed. Satisfied with his makeup, he held his bag out to Breakdown. The older man reluctantly took it.

“Just,” and he hesitated, “promise me you'll yell if you need me.”

“Of course.”

A little past the halfway point in his night, Gravescour was happy with the wad of cash he'd made. He considered taking an early night when an inebriated older man approached him.

“Still open for business?” the man cooed in a way he must've thought was seductive.

“For five-hundred, I am,” the boy said back, slipping away from the arm around his shoulders.

“Ooh, baby, that's rough. Don't repeat customers get a discount?” he asked, caressing a cheek with grubby fingers.

Grimacing internally, the teen gave a sly little smile. “Now, would I really be able to stay in business if I did?” the boy teased. “Besides, I'm a rare little treasure,” he said with a wink.

The older man stroked Gravescour's bare shoulder. “That you are, darling.”

The teen batted his eyelashes, playing coy.

“Five-hundred, then. I'll see you in the bathroom shortly.”

The boy grunted, the noise unheard over the chatter of the club. He downed the rest of the drink his last customer had bought him to soften him up and headed off to the loo.

It seemed like a pretty normal affair at first, until the man discovered the fresh bruises on Gravescour's back. He pressed on them, hard, and the teen cried out in pain.

“Please don't do that,” he said, a tortured little laugh escaping him.

“Oh, but the noises you make are so pretty,” the man cooed, doing it again.

The boy howled. “Stop!” He raised his voice.

“Ah, c'mon. Don't be such a little princess,” the man said, searching out other tender spots to torment. “You can handle this, can't ya? Yer little pussy gets so tight on my dick whenever I do it.”

The boy kept screaming every time a bruise was handled particularly roughly.

“Yeah, at this rate, you'll make five-hundred credits in five minutes, little thing.”

“This is your last warning,” Gravescour bit out. As he shouted again, Breakdown just happened to be heading out for a smoke and heard the muffled screaming from the toilets. He barged in, raising his voice, demanding to know what was happening.

“Last stall!” was the teen's stressed shout.

“You little fucking brat,” the man on top of him hissed, “At least let me come f-”

Breakdown kicked open the stall door, the plastic banging into the man who was hastily pulling up his pants, holding a hand out defensively. To Breakdown's surprise, the hand was held out to Gravescour. The teen's hair was a mess, the blouse torn, the look in his eyes deadly. He brandished a switchblade, about four inches long, pointed at the man's belly. His hand didn't shake.

“Gravescour,” Breakdown said in awe, shrinking back for half a second when the cold glare was turned at him. The teen then heaved a sigh of relief, and the blade seemed to vanish.

“Thank Primus,” the youngest among them mumbled.

“I'm leaving!” the stranger cried, hurriedly fastening his pants and fixing his shirt.

Recovering quickly, Breakdown said, “You're damn right you are. You'll be lucky if it's not in a body bag.” He grabbed the man by the back of his shirt. “You stay here. Go in a stall that has a working lock. I'll be back soon.”

The stranger pleaded with Breakdown, even trying to bribe him, the bouncer gritting his teeth at the effort it took not to start beating the man right there.

Not ten minutes later, the redhead returned.

“Hey,” he said, his voice still a bit gruff.

Gravescour grunted from the other side of a locked stall door. The older man passed him a cigarette over the top.

“Go ahead. I'll cover for you if someone else comes in.”

The teen lit the cigarette and puffed at it.

“Did you get the money beforehand?”

“Always,” Gravescour said. Though he winced as he remembered how one man in particular always got away with paying afterward.

“Good. I'm... pretty sure he's going to wind up in the hospital. He could barely walk when I was done.”

There was a long silence. A tap dripped.

“Thanks,” the boy said, his voice small.

“I got your bag out here. Do you want me to walk you home? You're pretty beat up.”

“I'll be fine. I'm armed.”

“I noticed. Now I'm gonna wonder where you keep that thing!” Breakdown joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Trade secret,” Gravescour said, managing a little grin.

“Just, hey, let me walk you down the street, at least. I'm not really comfortable letting you go by yourself.”

“You're sweet,” the teen said, giving a barely audible, bitter chuckle.

“I wouldn't call myself 'sweet',” the redhead corrected, “More like... just not a complete and total asshole.”

Gravescour scoffed as he opened the door, holding out his hand for the bag. He'd flushed the cigarette butt and did his best to make himself presentable.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“You can walk me down the street.”

Once out of Breakdown's sight, Gravescour texted Riot. He needed to come in the door that night because he couldn't climb the tree. The older boy rightfully freaked out, dragging the younger inside to patch him up as best he could. Though he could do little more than painkillers and ice packs for the bruises.  
  


* * *

  
  
Surprisingly, Gravescour passed all of his exams, given what little time or safe haven he had to study. Some he passed with flying colors, others he got by on the skin of his teeth. But what mattered was he had successfully graduated high school. No one was surprised that Riot nailed his exams, though he was disappointed in himself with the one C.

His father reminded him with a laugh that, “Cs get degrees!”

Gravescour opted out of walking to get his diploma, though he sat in the seats with Riot's dad to watch his friend. He also took pictures he was sure he'd tease the older boy with for years. Afterward, the three went out to the boys' favorite seafood place, Thrush beaming with pride. As they ate, they looked over the pictures Gravescour had taken of Riot and his dad, the younger man in his cap and gown, the older man's face split with a frankly goofy grin.

Thrush made Gravescour promise he'd pose for pictures with his diploma when it came in the mail, the brunette knowing the goth teen's mother wouldn't bother.

The boys decided to go out for the night, getting Riot's father's blessing. While Gravescour went to get changed, Thrush pulled his son aside. “Hey, um, I know I don't say this enough, but I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” the younger man said, returning the embrace when his father hugged him.

“I'm sorry I'm not so up to date with everything, ya know, that it took me so long to wrap my head around... well, you know.” He smiled awkwardly, scratching his buzzcut. “But, I love you, and nothing will change that.”

“I know, Dad,” Riot said, chuckling. “I love you, too.”

The boys headed out to the bar they'd been frequenting, Breakdown checking the younger boy over before letting him in with no charge. He called it a graduation present. Once inside, the young men removed the over-shirts they wore to be able to leave the house while Thrush was looking. They used them to claim chairs while they grabbed sodas. They saw some of the older graduates in their class milling about, though not too many due to the fact that their choice of watering hole was indeed a gay bar. Riot's laughter at some dumb meme his taller friend referenced turned into a devious smile.

“Don't look now, but it seems our principal is here again,” he said, watching as the man spotted them.

“You know I'm gonna look if you say something like that,” the younger teen complained.

“I know,” the white-haired teen said on a chuckle.

As Gravescour turned, Optimus greeted, “Young men! Congratulations!” He had clearly had a few drinks already, and it pained the boys not to snicker. “Come join us! Some of your fellow graduates have already stopped by to say their farewells!”

The teens, snickering, grabbed their jackets and followed the older man. He had a table with one free chair, the others occupied by Ratchet and Arcee, who grabbed another chair so the boys could sit together. Gravescour happily plopped himself down next to Ratchet, Riot taking his friend's other side next to the older woman.

“I didn't know you were a lesbian, Miss Arcee,” Riot noted, giving her what he'd hoped was an innocent-looking smile.

She pouted for a second before answering, “I'm bi. Not that that's any of your business, young man.” She stressed the last two words. When the boy's smile turned embarrassed, she smirked and put her bottle to her lips, apparently enjoying the same expensive lager that Optimus did.

“Hey,” Gravescour greeted the older white-haired man, smiling softly.

“Hey yourself,” he said. “Congrats on surviving high school.” Gravescour snorted in response.

“Young men,” Optimus almost cheered, “virgin cocktails to celebrate! What will you have?”

“Ain't no one here a virgin,” Gravescour said just loud enough for those next to him to hear. Ratchet choked on his beer. “Piña coladas taste nice!” the goth teen called out.

“Strawberry daiquiri for me, please,” Riot said.

“It shall be done,” the bluenette said with a nod and walked off.

“How do you like drunk Optimus?” Arcee asked, laughing.

“It's... something else,” Riot said. The woman only laughed harder.

Ratchet avoided looking directly at Gravescour, despite being keenly aware of icy blue eyes burning holes into the side of his head.

While they were waiting for Optimus' return, Bumblebee, one of their classmates, hurried over.

“Hey g-g-guys!” he greeted, the endearing stutter that won the hearts of all but the coldest people in full effect. “Miss Arcee, u-um, s-s-sir?”

“It's Ratchet,” the older man said, giving a polite wave. “Congrats on surviving high school.”

“Th-th-thanks!” the smaller blonde cheered. “I heard you're joining the Air Force too, R-R-Riot.”

“I am!” the older teen responded. “Hey, maybe we'll be together for basic!”

“That would be s-s-super cool!”

The boys chatted for a bit, Bumblebee asking Gravescour about his future plans, too. Arcee watched with a loose and happy smile on her face. Ratchet just listened, basking in the general air of happiness until Optimus returned with the boys' liquid sugar.

“Bumblebee, hello!” the bluenette greeted.

“H-hello, P-P-Principal Optimus!”

“Would you care for a non-alcoholic beverage to celebrate the occasion? Choose your sugary poison.”

“Uh... s-s-soda?”

“Very well,” the older man said, turning to walk off again. Everyone got a chuckle at the youngest blonde's confused expression.

“He's had a few drinks already, Bumblebee,” Arcee explained.

“O-oh,” the teen said, a blush dusting his lightly-freckled features.

When the bluenette returned with a soda for the blonde, and new beers for Arcee and Ratchet, the group talked for a while. Ratchet even joined in a bit.

Eventually Bumblebee saw someone else he knew and excused himself. It was then that the remaining teens decided it was time to dance.

“Wanna join us?” Gravescour teased Ratchet, taking a sick delight in the way his face lit up with a blush.

“I can't dance,” the older man grumbled.

“What a shame,” the younger teen cooed, letting Riot take his hand and pull him away. The teens tried to get a few people between themselves and their former authority figures, but found it difficult as the dance floor was small and sparsely-populated.

As the teens ground against each other, though, in their little more than painted on clothes, a few more people joined, partially obscuring the view of the men from the table they'd left.

Arcee watched the other men seated around her in amusement, picking at a paper tray of deep-fried okra as she watched Ratchet actually move to get a better view. She poked Optimus' cheek just as the older of the teens gently cupped Gravescour's chin from behind him, turning his head up so they could speak to each other. Optimus nearly jumped out of his seat. He turned to her with a red face.

“Neither of them looks like your usual type,” she teased.

“They are not,” he clarified quickly. “They are just talented dancers.”

“I'll say,” she said, her tone remained teasing, “Look at that.”

Optimus turned just in time to see both boys bent backwards in some kind of one-armed bridge move, Riot's hand a stark contrast to the black of the goth teen's pants. Optimus turned away as the other dancers cheered for the boys.

“Wonder where he learned that,” Arcee said to herself.

She looked around for Ratchet and found him staring, his lips slightly parted a few feet to the right of where he'd been seated before. Arcee's eyes twinkled with a devious plan.

“Looking for a sugar baby?” she teased.

Ratchet's eyes snapped to her, pupils blown wide. He almost looked afraid. He hunched his shoulders as turned back to his beer, covering his face with it as he downed it. “Absolutely not,” he said, setting the mug down just a little too hard.

“Why not?” Her teasing continued. “They're legal. I think, anyway. Besides,” she grinned, propping her chin on her hand, “You could stand to spend some of that money you're sitting on. I don't think you've made a big purchase since you bought my old motorcycle, and Primus knows you haven't done anything with that.”

“Excuse me,” he said, frowning. “I've painted it, replaced parts, I take it out every couple months so it doesn't go bad...” Her grin was infuriating. He wanted to go get another drink.

“Maybe having a younger partner would revitalize you,” she said.

“Are you gonna get yourself a younger partner?” the older man accused.

“I wouldn't go looking, but if they were an adult and they approached me, I'd consider it.”

Ratchet huffed in response. “I'm gonna go get another beer. Do you want one?”

“I'm good. Still got half of this one,” she said. She grinned once more. “Don't trip over anyone because you keep staring at the boys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groused, walking off to the bar.

On the dance floor, Riot was starting to lose his edge. He knew more moves than the slender teen, but the other also knew exactly where to strike for maximum arousal. He'd had an erection for the last several minutes, the thing straining painfully against his pants. Gravescour danced like sin incarnate, having more experience with club dancing than his older friend did. His ass rubbed along the swollen length trapped in leather just so that it created the perfect friction, sliding right between the perky cheeks in equally tight pants.

“Fuck, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?” Riot growled into the taller boy's ear, the other bent so that he appeared shorter. He only got a low, rumbling hum in response, and lean arms lifting to wrap around his neck. “This is obscene. It's like we're fucking on a stage.”

The slender teen moaned in response, arching into the hand that wandered over his stomach. “So many people are watching,” the dark-haired teen cooed. “Ah, I've never had you in my ass before. Be gentle,” he begged.

Riot cursed, grabbing the other by the hips. “You're gonna make me come in my pants,” he hissed.

“Please,” Gravescour whined. The younger boy moaned as a strong body humped against him, grinding hard. “Riot, Riot, please. Come in front of all these people. Want it,” he growled, “so bad.” When the firm body tense, he spun around, pulling the body close, lifting a leg to wrap around the trembling teen's hip. Gravescour dipped back, lifting his shirt to show his belly, looking up at his friend and licking his lips.

Riot stroked his friend's hips and belly as he shook through his orgasm, dick pulsing, throbbing against the backside his dick was pressed against. Heaving out a heavy sigh, Riot pulled the slender boy back to his feet to the clapping of those watching. The white-haired teen swallowed thickly, realizing he'd just come in front of dozens of strangers who were more than likely unaware that it wasn't an act. His whole body was still on fire, and he needed to blend in with the crowd again, to stop being the center of attention.

“Sorry I stole your thunder out there,” Gravescour teased, taking Riot by the hand when he realized his friend was on the verge of panic. “I could use a drink. How about you?”

“I'm gonna run to the bathroom and clean up,” Riot said. “As hot as that was, this is going to become an embarrassing mess soon if I don't deal with it. Grab me a tea, and I'll meet you back at the table.”

“Don't take too long,” the goth teen cooed. He headed for the bar as soon as his friend turned to head to the toilets. After a few steps he caught sight of someone he wasn't entirely looking forward to seeing. Megatron. Since they hadn't made eye-contact, he played it off as if he hadn't seen the older man and made quick work of getting a lemonade and tea, then hurried back to the safety of Optimus' table. Arcee and Optimus were caught up in conversation, and Ratchet looked contemplative and not exactly eager to talk, which suited the teen just fine. He was thankful that he had a straight line of sight to the bathrooms to keep an eye out for his friend.

“Somethin' wrong?” Ratchet asked.

“Nope,” the boy answered, sipping his lemonade.

“You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Gravescour briefly looked over at the older man to see his concerned and mildly irritated look, then turned his attention back to the hallway that led to the bathroom. “I just saw someone I don't want to talk to is all,” he explained.

“You gonna be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice brightening. “He won't approach me while you guys are here.” Ratchet frowned at that, his face twisting into a confused expression. “As long as Riot gets back here without being noticed, we're all good.”

It clicked for the older man, his eyes widening a bit. He too turned to watch the hallway to the restroom until the white-haired teen came out. Once Riot was back in his seat, the older white-haired man got up. He leaned on Optimus' shoulder, pulling the taller man down so he could talk directly into his ear. The bluenette frowned.

“Riot,” Optimus started, looking at the boy who was practically chugging his sweet tea, “Would you mind helping me carry a drink order?” he asked.

“Sure,” the teen said with a satisfied groan as he sat his nearly-empty glass down.

Gravescour watched intently as they walked away, the look on his former principal's face concerning. He turned a glare at the older man that tapped on his shoulder, relaxing when he found it was Ratchet. The older man held his hands up in response to the look he received.

“I figured you'd want a cigarette by now, and I was just going to offer to go with you since there's someone you don't want to talk to her right now.” When the teen merely raised a brow, Ratchet explained, “You smell like smoke, so I assumed.”

“I do, but you don't strike me as the type to smoke.” The older man nodded for him to follow and, trusting Optimus to watch after Riot, he did.  
  
“I'm what you'd call a social smoker,” Ratchet said as they slipped out a side entrance onto a porch with an overhand specifically meant to shield smokers from the elements.

“I thought you said you weren't very social?” Gravescour asked as they took up a perch at one end of the porch, as far as they could be from the other people, a youngish couple, who were smoking.

“Guess I'm not the only observant one around here, huh?” Ratchet teased. “Can you spare one?”

“I suppose,” the goth teen said, pulling two cigarettes and a lighter out of seemingly nowhere.

“Where do you keep your stuff in that outfit? Geez,” the older man said, letting the giggling teen light his cigarette.

“Trade secret,” the younger took a turn at teasing.

“And what trade might that be?”

“The teenage boy trade,” Gravescour said, his lips turned up in a grin as he wasn't _exactly_ lying.

“Now, it may have been awhile ago, but I can still remember being a teenage boy, and I don't remember the part where I hid all manner of items in skin-tight clothing.”

The slender teen laughed, waving away smoke he almost choked on.

“It's nice to see a real smile on your face,” Ratchet said, letting the thought hang like the smoke for a long moment, “but I'm afraid I have to ruin it.” He almost cringed as the mirth fled his smaller companion's face. “I gotta warn you about Megatron.”

“What's the recruiter have to do with anything?”

“Now that there was a good lie,” Ratchet said with a nod. “I could'a believed you if your earlier statements didn't only add up to the bastard.”

Gravescour said nothing, only smoked and watched the older man warily.

“Never mind how I figured it out. Just... what're you doing with him?”

“Why do you want to know? And what did he do?”

Ratchet sighed, his whole body shaking with the breath. “Because I worry about you.”

Gravescour hopped up on one of the small tables that was made for drinks, ignoring the chairs it was surrounded by. The teen rested his booted feet in one of the chairs and stared the older man down. “You don't even know me.”

“This is the third time we've met, so I'd call us acquaintances at this point.”

“You don't need to worry about me.”

“You say that, but then I hear you're going off after school with Megatron.” From the look on the boy's face, Ratchet knew he'd heard correctly. “So, what are you doing with him? Does he know you're only seventeen?”

Gravescour's eyes darted to the other couple only a handful of meters away. They seemed too wrapped up in each other to care about anything else. “He knows how old I am,” the teen said, taking a long pull from his smoke before adding, “probably better than I do.” Ratchet was about to ask what that meant, but he stopped himself, figuring he wouldn't get an answer. “You never told me what he did,” the black-haired teen said.

“That ain't my story to tell.”

“How're you supposed to scare me away from him if you can't give me an example?”

After a long moment of smoke-filled silence, Ratchet spoke, choosing his words carefully; “Back when we were in the Force together, he used his position and power to get younger men and women to do things to him that they didn't want to do.”

Gravescour couldn't stop the bitter little laugh that escaped him. “That doesn't surprise me.”

“So, why're you doin' this? Teenage rebellion? Thrill-seeking? What is it?”

The teen took a long look at Ratchet then, and the older man could almost feel the teen's eyes roaming his face, his jacket, his groin. “I think I like talking to you,” Gravescour said, his voice coming out a little lighter than the older man expected, “But I'm not gonna tell you my life story just because you're nice to me.”

“I ain't askin' for it,” Ratchet said, reaching up for the ashtray by the boy's hip to stub out the cigarette. Icy eyes watched his hand like a hawk. “I'm just asking what you're doing with Megatron.”

“It's just business,” the boy promised.

Ratchet cringed, getting the answer he feared the most. “Any business with him is bad news,” the older man warned.

“I already know.”

“You're not gonna say anymore on the matter, are you?”

“Probably not. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Ratchet barked out a laugh that startled the young couple out of their little world. They quickly headed back into the bar, giggling. “Boy, ain't nothing you can say that can make me uncomfortable.”

“Nice try, but I'm not falling for that one.”

Ratchet gave a little smile. “It was worth a shot,” he said.

“Since you've been asking me questions all night,” Gravescour started, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “I think it's my turn to ask you some.”

“Do you really get a turn if you didn't give me any straightforward answers?” the older man asked with an indignant little huff.

“I gave you answers. Figure it out, Mr. Observant.” He lit another cigarette and the older man pursed his lips.

“You gave me _one_ answer, so you get _one_ question.”

“Fine,” the teen said with a pout. “Why do you keep talking to me if you don't wanna fuck me?”

Ratchet sputtered in response. “Okay,” the older man said, standing up.

“Hey! That's a legitimate question!” Gravescour screeched.

“It is, it's just an embarrassing one,” the older man said, turning to lean on the railing that marked the edge of where alcoholic beverages were allowed. Gravescour silently joined him at his side, walking on his toes so his heels wouldn't click on the concrete. “It's not that I don't want to,” Ratchet said, looking out over the portion of the parking lot that they could see as the other's smoke wafted by. “You're a good-looking guy. A little on the effeminate side to what I usually prefer,” he added a bit hesitantly, “but I'm pretty sure you just doll yourself up like that to look younger. There's also _that_. You're seventeen. I'm... in my forties.” He cleared his throat after that admission. “If you were eighteen, I'd probably think about it, but I'd wonder what a cute young thing like you wanted with an old fart like me.” Ratchet put his hand to his chin as he thought for a long moment. “Unless you have some sort of old guy fetish. In which case, I'd understand and probably go for it.”

Gravescour laughed so hard he had to take a hold of Ratchet's arm not to fall over. The older man let him, chuckling himself. “You do have a nice body for someone in his 'forties',” Gravescour said, leaning his head against a thick shoulder.

“I heard the doubt in your voice, you brat,” the older man said playfully. “I'm forty-nine.”

“It doesn't matter to me.”

“It does to me,” Ratchet said, glancing over rather than down at the other.

“Because we're from different generations?”

“No, that ain't it.”

“Then...?” For another long moment, the only sound was the teen smoking.

“Because you ain't seen the world yet.”

Silence.

“Or maybe you have. What do I know?”

“Is that another ploy to get my life story out of me?” Gravescour asked, hiding his smile in the airman's jacket.

“Nah, just an old man talking to himself.”

“We should probably get back in soon, but, uh,” Gravescour started, pulling back with his head downcast. “Would you want to, maybe, hang out sometime?” He looked up and, finding himself unable to read the expression on the white-haired man's face, elaborated quickly, “In a public space!”

The older man chuckled. “Sure, if you can just do one thing for me real quick.” Pale blue eyes blinked, waiting. “Stand up straight for me for a moment?”

“U-uh, okay?” Gravescour sputtered. The teen stood to his full height, and Ratchet pouted, finding exactly what he expected. In his heels, Gravescour was a few inches taller than him, meaning that without them, the boy would still be taller.

They exchanged numbers and gave a test text so they were sure they had each other's contact information.

Back inside, Riot immediately took Gravescour's hand. There was that unspoken language again.

“Man, what took you so long? I thought someone ran off with you!” Riot teased, though he sounded a bit nervous.

“Oh, someone did. His name is Ratchet.”

The older man spit out the drink Arcee had just handed him, the woman barking out a laugh. “It ain't like that, I swear,” Ratchet said, holding out his free hand.

“Yet,” both Riot and Arcee teased.

“Man, he's your student,” Ratchet groused, pouting into his mug as he stared the bluenette down.

“ _Former_ student,” she corrected.

The teens enjoyed the adults' banter, but their nerves had become a bit frayed, being warned away from Megatron once again. They silently talked about leaving, but changed their mind when a server brought over a heaping tray of appetizers.

“Dig in, everyone,” Optimus said. “If Bumblebee comes back by, be sure to offer him some,” he instructed before turning to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Arcee asked, her voice accusatory and teasing.

“Oh, well, I- ah,” the taller bluenette sputtered, a hand in his hair.

“Oh, I see,” she cooed, “You found a thick guy to hit on. Carry on.”

Optimus walked away, red-faced as the rest of the table shared a quiet giggle around finger foods.

They managed the rest of the evening just fine, sitting with the same group, Arcee and Ratchet watching over the teens.

Optimus' attempts at flirting got him nowhere, he returned to the table. About to down another beer, Arcee snatched it away.

“Don't drink your sorrows away,” she ordered. “The boys are ready to go, so help us see them off.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the dejected bluenette said.

The teens had a hard time not giggling at their principal's uncharacteristic behavior. The three walked the boys to Riot's car.

“Take care, you two,” Arcee said, giving each one a hug. “Don't be a stranger, ya know? If you see me around town, say hello!”

“Of course.”

“We will.”

“The same goes for myself,” Optimus said with a nod. “I would be happy to hear from you any time.”

The younger men nodded. Ratchet held out his hand for Riot, shaking it. He did the same for Gravescour, but sputtered in shock when the slender teen pulled him into a brief hug.

“At least text me soon,” he whispered during the embrace, making Ratchet shiver.

When the boys got in the car to leave, their jackets thrown in the back seat, Optimus stared at Ratchet with a raised brow.

“Don't give me that look!” the older man yowled.

Arcee laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach, fighting off cramps.

* * *

Starscream groaned to himself, carrying the groceries Megatron had requested up the short steps to their shared home. They had made up a while back, but it was still a tentative thing, and the two had spent more time avoiding each other than together, though they still ate meals together, and watched the same evening news on the same leather sofa. The platinum blonde grumbled to himself about the extensive list as he let an arm full of bags come to rest on the island in the kitchen. When his hand brushed an object, he jumped. A bouquet of pink and red roses, wrapped in silver paper lay there, next to a note. The mauve-eyed man blinked, picking up the paper. In his partner's neat yet elegant scrawl, it read, _'The roses are for you, my love. Please come up to our room after you put the groceries away. Bring the cookies.'_

Starscream snorted at the last part, but smiled. It seemed their relationship was truly on the mend. He quickly put everything up and tossed the bags. With a box of cookies in hand, he hurried up the stairs. He knocked on the door frame, even though the door was open. He peeked in to find the older man laying on the bed, nude, but not aroused, simply enjoying the silk sheets and soft pillows.

Megatron opened red eyes, caught a glimpse of a blushing Starscream and smiled. He sat up, his glorious body on full display; a tribute to masculinity with his scars and light dusting of dark hair. The older man held out a hand.

Thinking he wanted the cookies, the slender man moved to hand them over, but made a little noise of surprise from somewhere in his throat when thick fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled him close to the bigger body.

“Welcome home,” Megatron rumbled, his voice low and lazy from having dozed off while he waited. He took the cookies and set them aside, pulling the fully-clothed blonde on top of him.

“Th-thanks,” Starscream said, bracing himself on the thick pecs, appreciating them with his palms. “Oh, ah,” he stuttered, pulling his hands back to himself.

“No, please,” the older man said, taking one arm from around the slender body to take a wrist instead. He encouraged the hand back to his chest. “Touch me. It's been too long since we've done just that. Do you want to get nude with me and just touch each other for awhile?”

Starscream was almost shaking, running his hands over his partner's chest and abs. “Yes, I do. B-but, um...”

“What is it?”

“What did you want the cookies for?” Starscream spit out almost too fast for the other to make out.

Megatron laughed, the smaller man bouncing with the motion. “A snack for us afterward,” he explained. “Don't worry, I won't ruin our dinner.”

“Oh,” the younger man said, simply. His back arched when thick hands slid under his t-shirt, the smaller man falling against Megatron's chest. He trembled as his back was stroked.

“Take off your shirt and let me rub your back,” the older man purred. Starscream quickly rid himself of the thing, tossing it aside before laying back against the broad chest, giving a quiet moan at the contact. “My, my. Are you that touch-starved, my dear? Have I been so negligent?”

Starscream said nothing, but shyly explored his partner's sides with his fingertips.

“Forgive me,” he continued, moving to massage the always-tense shoulder blades. The pale man whined, the sound dissolving into a moan as meaty fingers dig into sore muscles, stroked around sharp bones. “You can bite me if you need,” came an offer.

Instead, Starscream kissed one of the other's pale scars, a quiet gasp coming from the bigger man's lips. Megatron stopped the other from shrinking back, holding him gently but firmly.

“It's alright.”

After a moment, slim lips started trailing soft kisses over a big chest. Megatron's own back arched when Starscream found a nipple and suckled.

“Oh,” he purred, cupping the back of the other's head, fingers threaded in silver locks. He felt himself stiffening against the younger man, realizing he was still partially-clothed. “Sweetheart, let's get the rest of your clothes off. You can do that more later.”

Starscream pulled back, climbing off of the other. He was smiling shyly, and it possessed Megatron with the uncontrollable need to kiss the sharp-featured face: cheekbone first, then chin, then lips, holding the lip-lock as he eased the slender body out of jeans, heels falling off in the process. While the older man would have preferred to have kept those on, he was more focused on relearning the smaller body.

“M-Megatron,” Starscream gasped after he broke the kiss.

“Are you alright?” the bigger man asked, gently stroking two fingers along the slender length as it stiffened.

“Yes, I just- I-”

“What is it? Don't tell me you're nervous,” the brunette cooed, slipping his fingers past the length and past the lips down to caress leanly-muscled thighs that eagerly spread.

“N-no, but, it has been a while since I've had anything bigger than my own fingers or a small toy,” the blonde said, tucking his head into his shoulder.

Megatron gave a small smile and pushed the long red bang out of his lover's eyes, encouraging him to turn to look at him. “Sweet thing. Starscream,” and the blonde whimpered at the use of his name in such a tender tone, “I'll be gentle. I never want to hurt you.”

“I know,” was the response as long arms wrapped around a thick neck. “I-I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” the older man whispered, bringing a hand back up to lightly rub moist folds.

Earlier, Starscream had hated himself for getting wet as soon as the other had started rubbing, but in the moment, he was glad for it. The moan he let out a finger breached him was silent, nothing more than a heavy breath.

“Tell me to stop if it's too much,” the brunette said.

Starscream could only nod, panting softly as fingers gently worked him open.

Before long, the younger man was being held open with four fingers gently sliding in and out, the massive hand dripping with Starscream's fluids.

“Please,” the blonde asked, finally managing the courage to reach up and cup the square jaw of his lover, gently scratching the stubble. “I-I'm ready. I've missed this. I've missed _you_ ,” he stressed.

“I've missed you too, darling,” Megatron cooed. He kissed the slim lips tenderly as he eased in, rocking gently, taking several long minutes to work his engorged length inside, kissing the whining mouth all the while. Slim fingers pawing at a broad back, trying to pull the man impossibly closer. When the brunette relented the lip-lock, Starscream whined louder. “How do you feel, sweet thing?”

“Good, so good,” was all the slender man could get out, his legs trembling.

“Can you come like this, darling boy? Do I need to do anything else for you?”

“Just- just- a little harder, please? I can come like that,” Starscream said, once again trying to hide his face.

“Shh, now. There's no need for shame here. I'll give you what you need if only you ask,” the bigger man promised, and picked up his pace, drilling his hips, keeping the touches from his upper body tender. Starscream howled not a minute later, gushing over the stiff prick. Not having felt those deliciously tight contractions in too long, Megatron quickly followed, his face buried in a taught, thin neck he spilled his seed in the smaller man.

Starscream went limp, simply enjoying the rare, prolonged contact as the scarred body held him close, tight. They stayed that way until Megatron's length softened enough to slip from Starscream's well-loved hole with the slightest of movements.

“How do you feel, my love?” Megatron asked, pushing his lover's hair out of his face.

“Wonderful,” the younger man admitted, giving a weak little chuckle when the larger man rolled them both over out of the wet spot.

“You look like you're going to fall asleep,” the brunette teased as Starscream got situated on his chest.

“I might,” was the answer, the lithe body finally relaxing.

“Want to have some cookies first?”

Starscream's eyes, which had been starting to droop in his exhausted state, lit up, and he lifted his head a bit. “Yes!” he said excitedly, and Megatron remembered all over again why he fell in love with the little blonde in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome.


	6. Chapter 6

Ratchet stared down at the sandwich Arcee placed in front of him in disbelief. The cafe was quiet, being that it was a late morning on a weekend. “What the shit is this?” the older man asked, his upper lip curled away from his teeth in disgust.

“It's an avocado sandwich,” Arcee explained, picking her own up. “They're all the rage with the youth right now. I bet your little sugar baby loves these.”

“Don't call him that,” Ratchet groaned, setting his phone aside to prepare himself to ingest the gross-looking thing in front of him.

“Oh,” the woman teased around a mouthful of bread, avocado and tomato, “would you rather I call him your boyfriend?”

“N-no,” the older man sputtered, finally picking up the meatless abomination. “He's not my boyfriend or my sugar baby.” He quietly added, “Not yet, anyway.” His voice then returned to its normal volume; “And even if he does become that, it won't be for a while. He's still seventeen, Arcee. I'm not that level of creep.”

“Oh shit,” she said, wiping a stray bit of tomato juice from her chin with a napkin. “I thought he was an adult.” She cocked her head after taking another bite, chewing thoughtfully.

“You don't seem too bothered by this news,” Ratchet complained, finally taking a bite of the meal his friend had given him.

“I'm not,” she said honestly. “I know him. He's a mature young man, hard-working and all that. Helpful, at least in class. And I know you.” She took another bite of her sandwich and didn't continue until her mouth was clear. “I know you won't try anything with him until he turns eighteen. As much as you say otherwise, you're a good guy,” and she smiled. For once without an air of deviousness.

“Yeah, well,” the older man mumbled, taking another bite of his own. “Ya know, this ain't the worst thing I've ever put in my mouth.”

“I don't think anything on the planet could be worse than that bastard's dick,” she quickly agreed.

Ratchet had to grab a napkin and shove it to his mouth not to spit. “I'm eating,” he stressed, almost pouting.

“Sorry,” she said coyly. “I've taken to dark humor lately.”

“It's perfectly fine, just wait until my mouth isn't full.”

“That's what he said!”

Ratchet groaned miserably as Arcee laughed until she snorted, then laughed even more. She quieted when the older man's phone dinged with a text.

The bluenette then grinned something awful. “If he's not your sugar baby, then why are you texting him right now?”

“I only get an hour for lunch, Arcee. This is the only chance I get,” the man said. He texted with one hand and ate with the other, ignoring her delighted stare. “And he doesn't like avocado,” he groused. He held his phone out for her to see the text.

“Aww, what a shame,” she said, trying to pout but failing. She quickly scanned the rest of the messages, bursting out into another fit of laughter when a new one came in.

_Arcee's got me eating this weird avocado sandwich thing._

_RIP_

_Avocado is gross._

_I don't think I'd mind it so much if it had some meat on it._

The new one read, _So you like putting meat in your mouth, huh?_ with a winking emoji.

Ratchet took his phone back and read the message, his face turning red as the tie he had on, a brighter shade than his eyebrows. He quickly typed out a “BEEF YES” and shoved his phone in his pocket.

Arcee snorted again and covered her mouth. “You two are so cute together,” she managed.

“Shaddup,” the white-haired man complained. He stuffed his face with the sandwich while Arcee tried to calm down with a bottle of water. “There's too much to talk about here on my lunch break.”

“Yeah, there is,” Arcee agreed. “We can meet up on your next day off and talk then.”

Ratchet looked a little nervous, scratching at his freshly-shaved jaw. Arcee raised a brow. “W-well, I'm meeting up with Gravescour at the park down by the river on Tuesday.”

“Ooh,” the woman teased. “Are you being naughty, Ratchet? Grooming the boy, so as soon as he turns eighteen he's ready to take your... hot dick...” Her joke fell apart at the end, as she dissolved into another fit of giggles.

“Arcee, please never talk about my dick again. Especially not in public, and double especially not in relation to the kid,” he said, looking absolutely miserable.

With one more titter at the man's expression, she relented. “I'm sorry. There are just sooo many bad jokes that I can't make with anyone else. Well, maybe Jackie when he's around, but he lives upstate. Optimus literally runs away when I tell dirty jokes so, unfortunately, you're the one who has to sit and listen to them.”

“Maybe when I don't have to get back to work,” he said, finishing the last bite of his sandwich and standing to go. “Thanks for lunch, Arcee. Next time is my treat, and we're getting barbecue.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “It better be a place that serves veggies as sides and not just rice!”

“Of course, you health nut,” he said with a sigh, turning to leave.   
  
He smiled though, until Arcee called out to him, “Be sure to text me, hot dick!”

His shoulders hunched, and he considered flipping her off, but the closer it came to noon, the more people had come into the cafe. Instead he grumbled and gave a half-assed wave.

* * *

Tuesday, Ratchet sat on a bench, dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt. He nervously texted Arcee as he waited, having shown up over twenty minutes early. While he waited for her responses, he watched a couple of mallards swim lazily around a small fountain.

“You're early,” he heard, looking to his right to find Gravescour leaning over the free side of the bench.

“So are you,” the older man said as he stood up. He turned around to snark out a greeting, but stopped when he made note of the other's attire. Regular blue jeans, some band t-shirt, and a plaid flannel that was shades of blue and purple. The boy also had on tennis shoes. Ratchet was relieved to see that the boy owned a pair. He'd opted for leather loafers himself, disgusted with himself for only owning white runners.

“I guess I got a little excited,” Gravescour said, his hands folded behind his back. “It's not very often I just, ya know, hang out with someone,” he said, looking out over the river so he didn't have to look at the older man. “Well, except Riot, of course!” he quickly added.

“I understand,” Ratchet said, nodding. “I only really go out when Optimus and Arcee drag me out to places. Might be nice to have someone new to-” he paused, “I dunno, sit or walk with and vaguely acknowledge each other's existence.”

Gravescour laughed, turning back to look at the older man. He had to keep talking when he realized that the younger man wasn't wearing any makeup. He didn't even cover the bruise on his jaw.

“You look handsome today.”

The teen snorted. “I figured you'd appreciate casual clothes more than my club gear, so,” and he shrugged, a little smile seemingly permanently etched on his face.

“You're not wearing makeup, either.”

“It's too hot for makeup,” the younger man groaned.

“I think you look better without it.”

“Yeah, but I have the feeling you like manly men better than little boys,” Gravescour teased with a wink. “Most of the guys I come across aren't like that.”

“Aren't you hot in that shirt?”

The teen crossed his arms over his chest although he'd been caught bathing. “Trying to take my clothes off already?” he teased, his tongue peeking from between slim, pale lips. Ratchet made quite a strange noise, his face heating.

“No,” he said. “I just don't want you to be uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“I'm fine,” the boy said cheerfully. “I always wear long sleeves outside of work.”

“Work,” the older man said under his breath. “Well,” Ratchet started, eager to change the subject, “What do you want to do?”

“We're at the park, so, park things?” Gravescour asked.

“We can scare some ducks, put our feet in the river- ooh, maybe get snocones!”

Ratchet laughed softly, happy to see the boy excited to do boyish things. At the same time, it made him feel a fair bit guilty for his interest. “Ice cream does sound good,” the white-haired man admitted. “Snack stand, then?”

Gravescour grinned when Ratchet turned to head that way.

After ordering himself a cone of vanilla, he asked Gravescour what he wanted.

“O-oh, I can buy my own!” the younger man said, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense. Nothing here is over four bucks. Just get a snack.”

The teen scratched his cheek. “Um, root beer float, please,” he said, smiling in a reserved and small fashion.

Presented with their treats, Ratchet paid. Gravescour thanked the worker for the float, looking down into the lidless cup excitedly. They walked as they ate, the younger man telling horror stories from Gym with Arcee as a teacher. Ratchet had to pull his cone away from his face every few sentences not to smear himself with it when he laughed. In turn, he told the younger man stories of the woman when they were stationed together, and how the woman earned the nickname “HardArse”. The teen grinned around his spoon.

They threw away their trash, and made their way down by the water. There weren't many people milling about, being a sleepy Tuesday afternoon, but they both knew traffic would pick up in a couple hours after school let out, so they sat down in the grass at the edge of the river to make the most of the calm moment they had. Gravescour took off his shoes and socks, and to Ratchet’s horror, it looked like someone stomped on the boy's foot. His knees appeared to be scraped and bruised as well, but the older man couldn't see much of that without making it obvious he was looking.

“Aren't you gonna join me?” Gravescour asked, looking at Ratchet, who had sat cross-legged beside him.

“Oh no. No one wants to see my old man feet,” he said with a shake of his head.

The teen scoffed. “No one will see them if you put them in the water,” the younger man argued, putting a finger to his temple.

“Yeah, but what about when I have to dry them off?”

“Oh,” the teen said, as if he hadn't thought that far ahead. “I guess you're right.”

The older man huffed out a fond laugh and watched the other lazily swirl the water with his feet. “It feels good, thought.”

“I imagine, what with that bruise. Who stepped on your foot that hard?”

“My mom,” Gravescour answered easily.

Ratchet's brows rose. “Geez, how big is she?” he asked. He then thought better of it and offered an apology.

The raven-haired boy snorted. “Be as rude as you like when it comes to her. She's not exactly a nice lady.” Before the older man could say a word, the teen continued, “I'd say she's about as big as you. Maybe a little shorter.”

“I weigh about a hundred-and-ninety pounds,” the older man said, frowning a bit.

“Sounds about right,” the teen agreed, nodding. “She says she's on a diet, but she restricts what I can eat more than what she eats.”

“Well, she's probably looking out for you, but is just misinformed.”

“I really doubt it, but it's okay. I find food whenever I need it.”

Gravescour wouldn't look at him, so Ratchet figured one of those statements was a lie, or that the boy was hiding something. “She's not forcing you to be a vegetarian or something, is she? If you don't do vegetarianism right, it can lead to a deficiency in protein and other nutrients. I can see that being the case, what with how thin you are.”

The teen seemed to think for a long moment. “No, she's not. I get mac 'n' cheese sometimes, when she doesn't eat it all, and I always load my plate with turkey on holidays with the family, rare as they are, and she doesn't seem to care. Oh, and if I make something she doesn’t like, I usually get all of that to myself. Like… she doesn’t like spicy meatballs or chicken with any spice on it.”

Ratchet took his turn to scoff. “She shouldn't be eating so much mac 'n' cheese if she's trying to lose weight.”

“Tell me about it,” the teen grumbled. “She doesn't know how to diet, and she gets real mad at me when I try to offer advice.”

“I don't think parents like to be told they're wrong, especially by their kids,” the older man offered gently.

“I get that, but it wouldn't kill her to read the labels on the packages she buys,” the teen grumbled.

“You don't seem to like talking about your mom.”

“Not really,” the teen admitted.

“What about your other parent?”

Gravescour made a confused sound in his throat and looked over at Ratchet. “Hmm? Oh, she died forever ago. I was too young to really have many memories of her,” he said with a shrug.

The older man's lips parted a bit, his shock evident on his face. “Oh, I'm- I'm sorry,” he muttered.

“It's okay. Like I said, I don't really remember her. I was, like, six or seven when she died.”

Ratchet didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, picking at a blade of grass in front of him. 

“What about your family?”

“They've all passed at this point,” Ratchet said. “They had me when they were a little on the older side, so it was only inevitable.”

“We should probably talk about something happier.”

“I'm not sad that they're gone. Not anymore. They had long, happy lives and they were happy to see me live my dreams,” Ratchet supplied. “W-well, they wanted to see me get married too, but that obviously didn't happen, so, uh, yeah, let's talk about something else.”

“What kind of music do you like?” Gravescour asked.

“Oh, uh, usually whatever my satellite radio thing plays. I don't really prefer any one type,” the older man answered. “You?”

“Rock, metal and, don't tell Riot, but,” he hid a shy smile, “a little bit of pop.”

“Hey, you like what you like.”

“Yeah, but he'd tease me relentlessly if he knew I liked Lady Giga.”

“Who is that?”

Gravescour looked at Ratchet like he'd grown a second head. “How do you not know who Lady Giga is?”

“I'm an old man!” Ratchet practically shrieked, “And I have a lot of money, so I don't get out much!”

The teen laughed so hard he fell back, kicking his feet in the water. “I'll have to have you listen to some of her songs some day,” the prone boy said, resting his hands on his stomach. He smiled softly up at Ratchet, and the man had to turn his head away, lest he be caught admiring the handsome features.

“Yeah,” the older man agreed, plucking at grass once more.

“Can I ask you something, and have you answer me honestly for once?”

“I can't make any promises, but I'll try,” the raven-haired boy said quietly, watching the older man search for an appropriate place to let his gaze rest.

“You're always covered in bruises,” Ratchet said, not knowing exactly what words he should use to get the teen to talk.

“That's a statement, not a question,” Gravescour teased, sticking his tongue out at the other.

“I'm getting to it!” the blue-green-eyed took a deep breath and turned his gaze out over the water. It was fairly calm. It hadn't rained lately, so the water level was relatively low, and trash had been picked up recently. The sun was shining, but clouds passed overhead to offer the occasional break from the heat, and a soft breeze came with them. “Is someone abusing you?” Before the teen could come up with some cryptic answer, he continued, “You don't have to tell me who, just... yes or no.”

“Oh, yes,” Gravescour said flippantly. “How many people are would depend on your definition of abuse, but yeah.”

Ratchet turned wide eyes to the boy then, stunned that he would actually admit the thing they'd danced around in previous conversations.

“What? It's not like you can do anything about it,” the teen said, sitting up. “Even trying would be such a waste of everyone's time and resources. I just gotta tough it out for three more months, then I'm free!” he said, lifting his arms toward the sky. “Then I'll spread my legs and fly!” He brought his hands down to his lap, laughing. He didn't look at his conversational partner for a long moment. “Who knows? Maybe I will go to college after all. It really all depends on if I can afford to live on my own and attend classes.”

“I don't see how you can be so... so casual about all of this,” Ratchet said quietly.

Gravescour shrugged. “You get used to it after a while,” he said.

“Do you?” the older man asked, reaching out to brush Gravescour's hair off of his shoulder. He made a little sound in his throat when the teen grabbed his wrist. They stared at each other, the tension thick enough to feel, weighing down on them like a high humidity. “Do you?” he repeated.

The boy grinned. That wasn't a reaction Ratchet expected, and it threw him off. The younger man gently pushed his hand aside as he stood, wet feet making slick sounds on the grass. He grabbed his shoes with his left hand, pointing at Ratchet with the forefinger of the right. “Improvise. Adapt. Overcome,” he said, backing away.

The older man got up to follow, the teen always two steps ahead as he danced through the grass. He eventually let the older man catch him, Ratchet holding him awkwardly by the waist.

“Can you pick me up?” Gravescour asked.

“Of course I can,” Ratchet bragged. “Ya probably don't weigh much more than a loaf of bread, anyway.”

“What the hell kind of saying is that?” the raven-haired youth asked, snickering.

“I'm just sayin', you look light enough.”

“I weigh about a hundred-and-seventy pounds.”

“And I'm the son of Primus reborn,” the older man said with a scoff.

“Pick me up, then,” Gravescour taunted.

So he did, lifting the teen by his sides, long arms thrown around his neck. The other's shoes hit his back, but he didn't seem to care. Gravescour bent his knees and the other man took his full weight, holding the teen off the ground.

“Hello Primusson the Resurrected,” the younger man teased.

Ratchet huffed out a laugh, a little more labored than his usual. “Well, this is gettin' kinda romantic, so I'm gonna put you down,” he announced before gently lowering the boy.

“I thought this was supposed to be a date?”

“A friend-date!” Ratchet screeched.

Gravescour snorted as he started putting his socks and shoes back on.

“Ah, if- if you're still interested, I'll take you on a real date in, uh, what was it you said? Three months?”

“Yup! I turn eighteen in August,” was the answer. “I want to pick you up now,” he said, tapping his shoe on the ground to make sure it was in place.

“Oh no,” Ratchet said, backing up. “No, no, no. I'm not letting you hurt yourself further.”

“Oh, come on! You only weigh a little more than Riot, and I pick him up all the time! And I carry my mom to her room when she gets blackout drunk, so I've got the muscles for it!”

Ratchet frowned at the admission from the teen.

“Well?”

“Fine,” the older man said, sighing heavily.

Gravescour actually hopped in joy, and Ratchet already found himself regretting his decision. The teen wrapped his arms around Ratchet and the white-haired man tensed up. He closed his eyes tight, expecting the event to go poorly. Instead of lifting, the younger man just laughed. When Ratchet opened his eyes, Gravescour gave him a peck on the nose. The white-haired man blinked.

“I'm not someone who goes out of their way to prove something,” he said with a wink, letting go of the other. “There's a water show in an hour,” the teen said, stepping back. “Wanna go get some snacks and watch it?”

Once Ratchet got his wits about him, he stuttered out, “U-uh, sure.”

Over burgers and fries, they watched the fountains dance and spray to music. Unable to have any conversation with any depth due to the small crowd that had gathered to watch the show, they talked about mundane things. Favorite foods, favorite stores, hobbies, etc. Gravescour was unable to finish half of his fries and handed them off to the older man. As the sun dipped low, the lights on the fountains displayed a rainbow of colors, still alternating in time with music.

Gravescour laid his head on Ratchet's shoulder at one point, and the older man did his best not to jump. Swallowing thickly, he brought a hand up to the lithe back.

When the show was over, Ratchet gently shook the teen who had started to drift off with a small smile on his face. With a laugh, the boy jumped up, taking the older man's hand to pull him up, too. He caught himself on Gravescour's shoulder and they looked at each other in the low light. Ratchet found himself smiling despite his trepidation.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked.

“Your home?” the teen asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. Ratchet shook his head sadly. Gravescour smiled weakly and shook his head. “I'll walk home. Thank you, though.”

Ratchet felt his hand involuntarily tighten on the thin shoulder. He didn't want to let him go. “Text me when you get there to let me know you got home safe, alright?”

“I will, and thanks.”

After watching the teen walk away, happily sipping his soda, Ratchet took out his phone. He sought out a contact and put it to his ear. When the other answered, he said, “Arcee, you remember that time in the northern province when I got you and Jackie out of that jam and you said you owed me one? Yeah, I'm cashing that in.”

* * *

Elsewhere, Megatron still felt tender after making up with his partner. The last few days having been happy ones. Starscream didn't whine as much when they were both in good moods, and laughed more freely when no one's yelling shook the house for a while. But, even someone who could go again and again like the silver-haired man needed a break from Megatron's massive prick every now and then, so they'd agreed to spend the day engaging in their own hobbies, by themselves. That's why Megatron found himself in his study, looking through videos on his laptop, enjoying a cup of coffee and a cigar while a certain blonde on the screen writhed on a dick too big for his tiny body.

He considered going to the bar he knew the boy frequented, but thought better of it, not in the mood to drink or really even put on a polite face for strangers long enough to achieve his goal. Instead, he opened the slim drawer on his desk with a key he kept on the same ring as his car keys. He pulled out an unassuming notebook and flipped to one of the more recent things he'd written. He checked the time and date on the computer screen and grinned. Megatron put the notebook back in the drawer and exited out of the video, as well as the password-encrypted folder. Closing the laptop, he stood and headed for the door. Figuring Starscream was wrist-deep in painting a model airplane, he didn't bother calling out to the man to tell him he was leaving.

Fifteen minutes later, thanks to a little speeding, Megatron found himself outside an unassuming building labeled as a dojo under someone's name. He watched the entrance, sipping from a mug of coffee he'd brought with him. Ten minutes remained until class let out. He could feel his length starting to fill in his trousers. As the minutes ticked by, he idly stroked himself through the fabric, imagining the look on the white-haired teen's face when he saw him. Other cars pulled up nearby, but he couldn't find it within himself to stop rubbing his bulge. He was almost panting when a stream of young men and women came from the building, some getting into the cars that pulled up, others getting into their own cars. Riot walked out with another man who seemed to be his age, laughing. When he noticed Megatron, his eyes went wide. He quickly excused himself, walking over to the expensive car as a large hand casually waved.

“Hello there, cutie,” Megatron purred, just loud enough for the teen to hear.

“Uh, hi?” was all Riot could think to respond with.

“You look cute in your gi.”

“Thanks,” Riot muttered, trying to fix his sweaty hair.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” the older man asked, still rubbing himself through his pants as he looked the younger man up and down, delighting in the little bit of exposed collarbone.

“N-no,” was the honest answer, with a little shake of his head.

“Want some?” Megatron asked, sexual undertones loud and clear.

The teen seemed to think for a long minute, body that had been relaxed growing tense again. “Yes,” he said eventually.

“Get in,” Megatron ordered, and the white-haired teen did as told.

On the way to the hotel, the brunette kept palming himself, stealing glances at the teen shivering in the passenger seat. They parked somewhere they wouldn't be seen easily, and Megatron unzipped his pants. Confused, Riot looked up at the scarred face.

“Don't worry, we'll get a room. I just don't think I can get it to go down long enough to check in,” he explained, stroking himself. “So I'm going to rub one out real quick. Why don't you put the seat back and pull your pants down? Finger your pussy a bit so I can get off faster.”

Riot gave a little moan in response. After finding the lever that put the seat back, the teen hastily pulled his pants down to mid-thigh. He spread his legs as much as the pants would allow and sucked two fingers into his mouth briefly before moving them down to rub his clit.

“Yes,” Megatron growled, “Pleasure yourself, boy. Get those fingers in that horny pussy.”

Whimpering, Riot did as told, the fingers slipping down and quickly inside. The fact that they were in a parking lot had Riot dripping wet in seconds, moisture already threatening to spill onto the leather.

“Oh, sweet boy, you're so wet,” the older man marveled. “You want my cock so bad you'd take it right here in my car, wouldn't you?” His hand moved quickly over his prick, eager to get inside the boy.

Riot gasped at the words, his fingers picking up the pace. “Yes,” he repeated over and over, cracking his eyes open to watch the other man touching himself.

“Oh, but I'm going to be gentle with you tonight, boy,” the older man promised. “Maybe some day I'll fuck your tight little pussy in my car, but not tonight.” Riot whined, writhing. “I'm close,” Megatron warned. “Fuck, watch me come, boy. See what my dick does when it's in that tight little pussy.”

Riot froze, his fingers knuckle-deep, eyes wide as he watched the older man hold his dick by the base as it pulsed. Over and over it spit ropes of seed, splattering the steering wheel, the seat between his legs, the mat on the floor and even his own pants. Megatron gave a satisfied groan and resumed stroking himself through every last twitch. He then grinned at the boy beside him, taking in his almost scared expression.

“That's what your tight little boy pussy did to me last time, sweetheart. I can't wait to do it again.” He cleaned himself up with a napkin, then looked over at the teen. “You can keep fingering yourself while I'm checking in if you want, but don't you dare come. I want to watch every orgasm that pussy has tonight.”

Riot whimpered and nodded, his fingers slowly resuming thrusting as the bigger man got out. The white-haired teen almost came when he was illuminated by the car light, imagining that other people could see him. But he held off, eager to try the massive cock again.

When Megatron returned to find the other still knuckle-deep in the same position, he chuckled. Pulling open the passenger door, Riot gasped. “I bet you'd like to come right here in the parking lot, wouldn't you?” the older man teased, holding a hand out for the boy who quickly pulled up his cotton pants, furiously blushing. “Just leaning out the door for my viewing pleasure...”

Riot stood without the brunette's help, and swiftly moved past him. The older man chuckled as he shut the door. He led the teen to their room.

Inside, Riot took a good look at Megatron. The thin argyle-patterned sweater he wore made him look a lot less intimidating than his suit jacket, but he could still easily make out the man's bulk. His body tensed involuntarily when those thick arms pulled him close.

“Don't tell me you're losing your nerve now, sweet boy,” the man cooed as he sat, pulling Riot between his legs so he could nuzzle the V of exposed chest as Riot's belt started to loosen.

“No, I just- your sweater,” he mumbled.

Megatron chuckled, meaty paws coming up to untie the belt. “What about it?” he asked. “I don't wear full suits at home,” he teased, marveling at the boy's toned body as the upper half of the garment fell away. He kissed and suckled at the newly-exposed skin until the boy trembled, paying special attention to dark, perky nipples and the pale scars a couple inches below them. “I see you have your own battle scars already,” Megatron said, his voice almost comforting. Riot opened his eyes to look down, found the man smiling softly before he gave the right one another lingering kiss. When he pulled back, Riot gave a sigh that was half disappointment, half relief. “Well, I suppose we should talk price,” the brunette said with a sigh of his own.

“Oh, um, well-”

“How about one-hundred for the show in the car, and three-hundred more if I get to come inside you twice?”

“I- um- o-okay?” Riot asked more than agreed, but let the older man's hands guide him to the bed.

“It won't take long with this sweet little body of yours,” the older man promised, fondling the teen's length through his pants. “I'll get undressed. Finger yourself for me some more, sweetheart. I'll help you out in a minute.”

Before long, Megatron was opening Riot on three of his fingers alongside the two of Riot's own. He knelt between the boy's muscular legs, leaning forward to flick his tongue over the swollen clit. Riot gasped, fisting the sheets when the brunette's lips wrapped around the nub and sucked. It only took a minute of the rough handling of the older man's tongue, the finger and the feel of stubble against his intimate lips for Riot to come, a long whine escaping him as his insides clamped around the digits.

“Beautiful,” Megatron purred as he pulled back. He eased his fingers out and pressed kisses along the quivering abs before him. “Take a short break, sweetheart,” he said softly. “But soon I want to get inside you.”

The teen could only nod, lifting his arms to wrap them around a thick neck, encouraging the larger man up on top of him.

“I don't mind you clinging to me, sweet boy,” the older man cooed, “In fact, I quite enjoy it. But wouldn't you rather get on top of me so you can take it at your own pace?” he offered, hands on the boy's sides, suggesting he roll as the older man twisted his body to the side to lay flat on the bed.

“Um,” was all Riot said, sitting on Megatron's thighs, the muscle so thick he already felt spread open and vulnerable again.

“Take it at your own pace, darling,” the brunette said, stroking the boy's own muscular thighs.

The white-haired teen nodded silently, taking Megatron's length in hand. He marveled at its size. He spread precum over the head and down the shaft as more dribbled with each stroke. He lifted himself and carefully positioned himself over the stiff prick. He pushed down until the head popped inside, giving a little cry at the sensation. His head shot up when Megatron gasped.

“Yes, sweet boy,” the man praised through gritted teeth. “Easy does it,” he said, though he sounded like he wanted anything but.

Bracing himself on the furry abs, Riot started to wiggle his hips. Megatron groaned as the teen worked down on his dick, the shorter man practically dancing on him. He hissed out a curse when the boy lifted his arms and started undulating his hips. The brunette grabbed Riot's hips, having to fight not to shove all the way down on himself. The muscular boy continued to writhe rhythmically on a little more than half the prick.

“Sweet thing, can you take more?” Megatron managed through his clenched teeth. “I want to come deep inside you, baby boy.”

“I'll try,” Riot said, his voice breathy. He tossed his head back as he shoved himself down. With a little help from the scarred man, he found himself full of a giant, throbbing prick, a silent scream vibrating in his throat. He groaned as he lowered his head to look at the older man. He felt powerful, looking down at that scarred face twisted in beautiful agony as he tried not to move, as he tried not to come. His insides rippled, clamped and relaxed around the intrusion, a delightful feeling, though not quite an orgasm, it felt amazing. Riot threaded his fingers in Megatron's chest hair, holding it tight as he tested the waters. Lift an inch, drop back down. Lift, drop. Repeat until Megatron gave up on trying not to thrust and assisted the youth in bouncing on his throbbing prick. The wonderful feeling happened a few more times for the teen, but he found himself able to keep going, not as overstimulated as when his clit had been abused.

“Yes, so good, wonderful, sweet boy, so perfect,” Megatron rambled, “Gonna make me come. Yes, dance on my dick, sweet thing. Oh, Primus,” he moaned. “Gonna come, beautiful boy,” he hissed, holding down the still-swiveling hips.

Riot pulled at the chest hair as the massive prick grew even bigger as it swelled and pulled inside him. Megatron groaned, his eyes rolled back in his head as he filled the boy.

“Fuck,” the older man groaned as he sagged back to the bed. After a moment, he gently massaged the overworked hips as he looked down between them. “You're so fucking tight, sweet boy. I can't wait to see you leaking,” he rumbled lazily.

Riot shivered, his hole giving Megatron a little squeeze. He made a soft sound of surprise when the older mane eased him down to his chest. The boy shivered as one massive hand stroked up and down his spine. After a tense moment, Riot settled in, letting the man take his full weight so he could cautiously explore what he could reach of the man, counting his scars with his fingertips. “There's so many,” the teen marveled, brushing his thumb over an old, puckered bullet wound.

“Mm,” the older man agreed, his hand slowing on the teen's back, “That'll happen when your plane is shot down and you have to protect your surviving comrades.”

“Oh,” Riot said simply.

“Hmm?”

“I-I didn't know you were _that_ old,” he said sheepishly.

Megatron's booming laugh shook the boy, jostling the once more stiffening prick inside the teen, making the white-haired boy gasp. The renewed intrusion had Megatron's previous emissions starting to dribble form him. “How old did you think I was?” Megatron asked, moving a massive hand down to appreciate a firm rear.

“I-I dunno. Like, thirty-five?”

Megatron gave a happy growling purr as he sat up, keeping himself deeply rooted inside the teen. “Flatter me some more, boy,” he said, turning them over so Riot was the one on his back, “and I'll fuck you like I'm thirty-five again.”

Riot couldn't do anything but cling, trying to hook his ankles behind the older man as he started to thrust. Finally able to use the unbearably tight hole like he wanted in the first place, Megatron buried his face in the sweaty black and white locks, chuckling to himself.

“Such a sweet boy,” sounded almost teasing, falling from scarred lips. “Such a darling little angel deserves to come again, don't you think?” Megatron sat back so he could look between them, and the change in angle made the teen cry out. “Such a sweet little flatterer, stuffed so full,” he rambled, putting a hand forward to thumb at the boy's exposed clit. Riot started to squirm again and the brunette growled out his pleasure; “Your pussy feels so good, sweet thing. Can't wait to feel you come on me. Can't wait to hear you scream, taking it so well...” he trailed off, the look of shame on the younger man's face stopping him. “What's wrong, sweetheart?” Megatron asked, relenting on the clit torture for the moment. He leaned down so the boy could wrap his arms around him again.

“I- I couldn't take it all the first time,” Riot admitted into the thick neck. 

Megatron chuckled, pushing the teen's bangs back, away from his forehead so they wouldn't cover his eyes. “Sweet baby,” Megatron marveled, his dick jumping inside the other, the pull a delightful sensation for the teen. “No one can take it all the first time,” he promised. “Especially not someone so... new to the experience.” He didn't let up with his hips, even as he comforted the teen. “I would never want to hurt you,” he purred, “and you can take it all now, so there's no need to feel guilty, darling boy. Your pussy is so tight, so wonderful. You're going to make me come again soon,” he said, once more leaning back, and again the white-haired youth keened at the angle, “So let me make your sweet pussy come again before I fill it up again.” The brunette gave the boy's length a few strokes to ensure that it was fully erect before abandoning it to focus on the swollen clit. He rubbed it roughly, feeling the boy bear down on him at the first touch. “That's right, come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his thrusts shallow, but hard, two massive fingers quickly rubbing over the wet nub. “Oh, fuck,” Megatron groaned at the first rolling clamp of the tight hole as Riot screamed with his orgasm. He didn't last more than a few seconds longer under the rippling sensation of a practically virgin hole coming, begging for his own release.

Pushing deep, Megatron held still as he pulsed inside the boy, the soft and constant whine from the teen's throat music to his ears. Panting, both men looked at each other. Megatron's face relaxing into a pleasant smile before he leaned over to kiss the other's sweaty forehead. Riot squeezed him hard again, and the older man gave a little moan, easing himself out of the hole. He didn't touch Riot again right away. Instead he satisfied himself with just watching the natural clenching and relaxing of the hole as the teen tried to catch his breath, watched his seed leak down between firm, muscular ass cheeks and drop to the bed.

“You did such a good job today,” Megatron cooed. “Very, very good indeed.”

Riot looked away, finally getting enough blood to his face to blush.

“There's no need to be shy, sweet boy. You made me feel amazing. Let's rest for a minute, then I'll help you get cleaned up and I'll take you back to your car, alright?”

Riot hummed out an affirmative and shyly reached out for the older man. Still feeling gentle, Megatron accepted the embrace.

Later, Riot found himself standing at his car in his sweat and fluid-crusted gi, just staring as the older man drove away. It was an odd feeling, he thought; his pocket four-hundred credits heavier after all of that. With a shake of his head he unlocked the door. He decided to think about it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning this chapter: rape and mentions of child abuse

“Ratchet,” Arcee said, taking the beer out of his hand, frowning. “You called in a favor that big because you're developing feelings for someone who will be perfectly legal for you to fuck, date, and even marry in three months?” she asked, giving an exasperated sigh.

“It's not just that, Arcee,” the man said, standing from his sofa to grab his beer back. She put her hand on her hip as she watched him down it.

“Then what is it?”

“Remember, I'm calling in that favor, so no matter what I say, this stays between us.”

“Did you sleep with him already?”

“No!” Ratchet shouted, cracking into another beer, almost done with the six-pack he'd brought to the table in front of the sofa as soon as he'd walked in the door.

“Well?” Arcee asked, both brows raised. She'd been about to call it an early night, crawl into bed and watch shitty movies when she got his call. She threw on shoes and headed over to his place without even bothering to change out of the shorts and tank she intended to sleep in.

Ratchet stared down at the can in his hands, he shook his head before muttering, “Someone is abusing him, Arcee.”

“Oh,” she said, finally taking a seat in the armchair a few paces from the TV across from the couch.

“Yeah,” he said, looking up. “He had bruises all over his body.” He averted his eyes then. “They looked new. He even admitted someone was hurting him, but not who. Though I'm pretty sure I know who it is.”

“His mother,” Arcee said coldly.

Ratchet's blue-green eyes snapped to her. “How did you know?”

“God,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, motioning for Ratchet to pass her one of his remaining beers with the other. He did, and she cracked into it. “I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, so if anyone finds out and I lose my job, I'll know exactly who to blame,” she warned. Ratchet nodded solemnly and waited for the tale as Arcee downed half her can. She wiped her mouth before she continued; “About four years ago, there was a sexual abuse case. You might have seen it mentioned on the news, but since he was a young minor, the cops kept the names of the people involved off the lips of reporters.

“A group of men had taped themselves having sex with a thirteen-year-old boy, and one of them put the video on the internet with the boy's real name on it.”

“Primus Christ,” Ratchet whispered.

“Yeah,” Arcee agreed. “Luckily, one of the men's faces appeared in the video, and the cops were able to track them down.”

“That's awful,” the white-haired man said, setting his beer on the table so he could rub his hands over his face. “But what does that have to do with his mother?”

“It was thought that the men paid her for access to him,” the woman said through gritted teeth.

“Christ,” Ratchet said again. “Why is he still in her custody, then?”

“CPS couldn't prove it. They couldn't find anything that would let them take him away. She played the doting mother and managed to keep him.”

“Has he been to therapy for it?” Ratchet asked, reaching for his beer again.

“I don't know for sure, but I do know he's adapted well,” she said, looking at the image on the can in her hands. “When he first started high school, he would lash out at other kids if they got too close to him in the bathrooms or locker room. Then he met Riot, and he calmed down. He started to act like a normal teenager, even started helping other kids in classes he was good at. He seemed to have recovered just fine.

“We all thought that his mother had been scared straight by CPS and the police, but I guess we were wrong.”

“Who is 'we all'?” Ratchet asked.

“Optimus, me, his other teachers that cared.” She was quiet for a minute. “Now I'm gonna be kicking myself for not noticing any changes in his behavior, not seeing that something was wrong.”

“You can't blame yourself, Arcee. He learned to hide it the same way we did.”

“He's just a kid.”

“A crafty kid, keeping the abuse and- and hooking under wraps for this long.

“Hooking,” Arcee repeated.

“Yeah,” Ratchet said. He turned his attention downward, seemingly counting carpet fibers as intense as his gaze was. “And Megatron is one of his clients.”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me!” Arcee shouted, crushing her beer can in her hand from the sudden wave of anger that washed over her. The amber liquid dribbled out of the punctured sides of the can, but neither of them cared in the moment. “I knew I shouldn't have let them all leave together,” she growled.

“What?”

“Megatron picked Gravescour and Riot up from school one day. I figured they'd be fine because they were together and heading for the base, but... Fuck. I even called Optimus.”

“So he knows?”

“I don't think he'd automatically assume the worst, especially with his ex...”

“But he knows something.”

“Yeah. I'm gonna fucking kill Megatron,” the bluenette growled.

“You know we can't do that, Arcee. Not with Starscream where he is right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, but it didn't help calm her down. “What do we do then?”

“We wait. It's all we can do. Unless you can figure out a way to get evidence of what he's done.”

“We could tail Gravescour,” she suggested.

“And lose his trust when he figures us out?”

“God damnit,” she said, dropping her can. “What about having Starscream look through his computer? There's got to be something incriminating there.”

“I've already tried that,” the older man said with a shake of his head. “Everything is password-protected.” Arcee hissed out another curse in response. “I think all we can do is keep an eye on Gravescour when we can. Offer him an ear or a place if he needs it,” Ratchet sighed. “If you're not busy on my next day off, I'd like you to be here for the first time I bring him here. Ya know, so he's comfortable and I don't feel like a creep.”

“Yeah, I'll be here,” she agreed, trying to smile.

Ratchet tried to return the gesture.

Neither could quite manage.

* * *

Elsewhere, Starscream looked at his phone. He'd texted Megatron over an hour ago and hadn't gotten a response. He sighed, and decided to get on the older man's laptop to check his food budget for the month and see when the last time he'd ordered pizza was.

In the study, the slender man opened the laptop and brought up the browser. Apparently Megatron had the same idea, as his bank page was still up. About to log out, Starscream stopped. Curiosity got the better of him as he scrolled down the page, looking at his partner's account history. He frowned when he noticed large withdrawals and no notes to explain them.

“Odd,” he said to himself, his eyes narrowing before he logged Megatron out and signed into his own account.

* * *

When Riot finally got home, he was greeted inside by Gravescour.

“Finally! What took you so long?!”

Riot blinked, seeing his father and the goth teen sitting at the kitchen table, the older man stuffing his face with a cookie. “I got caught up in conversation with Thundercracker and lost track of time. I guess I missed out on your cookies because Dad already got a hold of them, huh?”

Thrush looked up, his eyes narrowed. He pulled the plate with the remaining cookies toward himself and hissed.

“Dad, give me one!”

The older man hissed again, running up the stairs with the cookies.

“Dad, I had copeira today! I can't chase you!” Riot called, running after the man, anyway. He could really use a cookie after his night. He could hear Gravescour laughing downstairs as he caught up with his dad and wrestled a few cookies away from him. He only wound up with the cookies because his father was looking at him funny.

“Did you get hurt at practice today?” Thrush asked.

“No, why?” Riot answered before he realized he was walking funny. He cursed mentally. His father stared him down.

“You've been coming home so late recently. I thought it was because you lost track of time with Gravescour, but he showed up tonight before you got home.” Riot swallowed weakly. “You're not... in some kind of fight club, are you? You don't need to prove your masculinity like that, you know.” 

As his father rambled, Riot heaved a sigh of relief.

“You're eighteen, you can get in real trouble now.”

“No Dad, I'm not in a fight club. I guess I did get hurt and just didn't realize.”

Thrush stared him down again for a long moment. “Fine,” he said, darting into his room. “But the rest of these cookies are mine!”

“Dad!!”

But Thrush only hissed as he closed the door.

Gravescour walked up behind him, laughing. “Your dad really likes my cookies, huh?”

“Yeah, but they turn him into some kind of vampire thing,” Riot said with a lopsided, confused frown. Gravescour only laughed harder. “Well, I grabbed three. Wanna split 'em?”

“Nah, I had two when they were fresh out of the oven.”

“Cool,” Riot said around a mouthful of chocolate chip goodness. “Wanna go smoke?”

“Sure,” the younger teen agreed.

Outside, Gravescour handed his friend a cigarette, already lit.

“So, how'd your date go?” Riot asked, suddenly brimming with energy.

“It was really nice, actually,” the taller boy said, a goofy smile on his unpainted lips. “We just got snacks and shot the shit for a while.”

“Think you'll go again?”

“Yeah, probably. He said he's interested in actually dating me once I turn eighteen, so, potential, I guess.”

“Are you really cool with that age gap?”

“I don't give a shit. He actually likes me, and doesn't just want the poon.”

Riot choked on smoke and coughed.

“I'm gonna have to raise a lot of money and get a real job soon if I want to do this, though,” he said with a long sigh.

“I can't wait to see you in some work uniform,” Riot said with a little giggle.

“But if I date him, you can't bang me in the back room where the camera blind spots are,” the younger boy teased.

“That sucks,” Riot said with an over-exaggerated pout. “But, I mean, I can probably get it somewhere else if I try hard enough. It'll just suck, not being with my best friend and all.” He looked at his friend for a long moment. He wanted to tell him, but the thought of ruining his good mood almost physically hurt. “Can I tell you something and have you promise not to get upset with me?”

Gravescour looked over then, his head cocked curiously. “I think the only thing you could tell me right now that would upset me is that you've already banged Ratchet.”

“Ew, no!”

“Rude!”

“Heh. Sorry, but grumpy just isn't my type.”

“Then what is it?”

“The reason I was late today,” he trailed off, closing his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I was with Megatron.” Riot opened his eyes in the silence that followed. “See, I knew you'd be mad at me.”

“I'm not mad,” Gravescour said quickly, “Just-” He too trailed off. “I guess I'm worried,” he settled on.

“Worried?” the white-haired teen asked, looking over at his friend to see him biting his lip and scowling at the driveway.

“You were so scared that first time, then I promised you that I wouldn't let anything happen to you if you always went with me, but you went alone,” he trailed off again, giving himself a moment to just smoke. “You know I'm always armed.” That knife appeared out of thin air again, and Gravescour spun it around his fingers. He snapped it closed and it was hidden again. “In addition to that, I have pepper spray and my rings on me right now. I can protect you. But when you go off with a man like that by yourself...”

“I'm trying to decide if I should be offended or not, having you think I can't protect myself,” Riot mumbled around his filter. “But Megatron is pretty big, I guess.”

“I'm sure you could take care of yourself if, say, he came after you because you farted in his coffee or something, but in a sex situation?”

The older teen tried not to laugh, but the mental image was funny.

“I'm just gonna worry, ya know? You're not exactly a seasoned pro like me.”

“I get it, and I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you, man. Now tell me what happened.”

The teens spent the rest of the night gossiping.

* * *

On his next day off, Ratchet invited the boys over, Arcee along for the journey. He gave them a tour of his home and they seemed particularly enamored with the garage and his motorcycle. Arcee had a good, long laugh about how the younger teen pestered Ratchet until he promised to take him for a ride someday.

Of the next few weeks, Riot and Gravescour spent nearly every day together, save for the older teen's classes. They spent most nights at Riot's place, but camped in the backyard of Gravescour's place a few times so Thrush wouldn't grow too suspicious.

The thing Gravescour hated most in the entire world, other than his own mother, were the weekends that Riot and Thrush went out to their ranch in the countryside without him. He was miserable without his best friend, but he understood that the two needed some father-son time before Riot left, and apparently that was horseback riding and wine coolers on the patio. He knew this from the few times he'd been invited along, rare though they were. But at least, he thought to himself as he danced and twisted his way through the bar, he had a couple days to work without the guilt of not spending time with Riot before he left for basic training.

The goth teen found himself relatively unbruised that night, one of his cheeks a little red from being slapped, and his bum sore from being tossed out on it, but that was nothing a little rouge and a drink from a john couldn't fix. He flirted, found a few customers and made a few hundred credits. The evening was going swell until a familiar form stalked up on him.

“My evening is starting to look quite _peachy_ ,” Megatron cooed as he grabbed the boy from behind. “What a cute little outfit you have on tonight. Have you been hit on by women, wearing this tiny skirt?”

“Just one,” the boy answered gruffly, yanking himself from the bigger man's embrace.

“Why are you being so cold, my sweet boy? Did what I did with your little friend make you jealous?”

“As if,” the goth boy hissed. Truth be told, he had been a little jealous over how gentle the older man had been with Riot, but the teens had worked through that. Gravescour could never hold any ill will toward his best friend. But his hatred for the man before him grew, knowing what his gentle affections would morph into given time. “I'm not interested in servicing you tonight,” Gravescour said, and turned to walk away. His eyes were as cold and steely when the older man grabbed his wrist.

“Just listen to my offer,” Megatron said, “and if you decline it, I will let you go.”

“Fine,” the boy said, yanking his arm from the meaty paw.

“Five-thousand credits to be my little cum dumpster until the bar closes,” the brunette said, reaching out to fondle the short skirt that barely covered a thing on the slender teen.

Gravescour bared his teeth. Five-thousand credits was enough for him to live on his own for four months if he were frugal. He wanted to take the money, badly. It would be a great start for when he turned eighteen. He also didn't want to spend the next five hours with Megatron. “I'm leaving at one,” he said, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Three-thousand, then,” came the counter-offer.

A little less than three hours for nearly three months of being on his own guaranteed. “Money first,” Gravescour said.

“Of course,” Megatron agreed, taking out his wallet.

The teen counted the bills, then shoved them in his boot. “So, I guess I'll be sitting on your lap all night, and we'll be running to the bathroom every time you get a boner?”

Megatron pulled the boy close by his grip on the other's skirt. “Why do we need to go to the bathroom when you have this on? We can just find a booth and you can sit on my cock while I drink, and no one will be the wiser.”

Gravescour narrowed his eyes.

“I'll buy you food and drinks, too.”

“Alcohol?”

“Just don't get too wasted,” the brunette teased.

Megatron ordered them drinks and refused to hand the teen his piña colada until they found a secluded seat. The big man with the slender teen on his lap barely fit into the booth. The brunette had his hands under the skirt before they'd even gotten seated, fondling the teen through his panties. The garment was quickly pulled aside, and two fingers slipped inside, making Gravescour choke on his drink.

“You could warn a guy,” the younger man hissed, though he pushed back against the touch anyway.

“Really? Must I warn a pocket pussy before I fuck it, too?”

The teen was about to give a rude remark, but the thumb of the hand holding his panties aside found his clit and started rubbing. The raven-haired youth bit down on his straw to stifle the noises his body demanded he make. Before long he quivered with the effort to hold back an orgasm, the older man not letting up on the stimulation.

“I didn't know you pleasured your pocket pussies,” Gravescour bit out through clenched teeth.

Megatron chuckled, leaning his chin on a thin, sharp shoulder. The teen twisted his head as far away as he could get it without being obvious to an outside observer.

“You may not like me anymore, my sweet little slut, but your body loves me,” Megatron taunted, adding a third finger. “Go ahead, gush all over my pants and shoes. I'll leave when you do,” he husked, twisting his fingers.

Gravescour moaned into the straw in his mouth, his drink bubbling as he came, shaking with his effort to hold still.

“After I get inside of you,” the man started, moving his hands down to his already-wet slacks to free his throbbing member, “I want you to finish your drink.” He had to lean forward, then back to get himself inside the dripping hole with what little space they had. Gravescour reluctantly shimmied his hips to help ease the path. Once fully seated, Megatron gave a pleased little hum. “After you finish it, I'll order us more while you try not to come in front of the server.”

The teen bit his lip and refused to touch his drink for a while. Megatron sipped his own, occasionally thumbing the boy's clit to feel him bear down.

“Drink, sweetheart. You wanted it,” Megatron said, pushing black locks back so he could nip at the slender, taut neck. He shushed the boy when he started to complain. “Hush now, I won't take your knife,” he promised. “I won't hurt you, either. Just enjoy your drink and my dick. Maybe you'll get more into it if you get a couple of drinks in you.”

Gravescour reached out for his drink, holding it with both hands. He sipped, groaning in his throat when the older man started rubbing his clit again.

“I want to come in you for the first time before you finish your drink,” he said. “Can't have me filling your slutty pussy with hot come while trying to talk to someone.” The fingers grew rough in their stimulation, the teen squeezing the glass so tightly he was worried it might break. “Come for me and I'll give you a hot load,” the brunette growled.

Before long, Gravescour was huffing through another orgasm, his lip worried raw as he tried to stay quiet.

“Yes, that's nice,” Megatron cooed. He shifted his hips to hump into the boy with shallow thrusts. He grunted when he came, loving the way the teen shivered in both disgust and arousal. “Now, finish your drink, slut,” the scarred man ordered.

Gravescour wasted as much time as he could on his drink, taking small sips. He'd occasionally lean back and tuck his hair behind his ear as if flirting with the man whose lap he sat on. But, eventually it was gone, as well as the older man's drink, which he'd casually sipped while his length stiffened again inside the teen. When both were gone, Megatron waved down a server. He placed an order for two new drinks, gently rubbing the teen's swollen nub with the hand still under the table. When the server headed to the bar to fill their order, Gravescour was mortified, his teeth clenched tight. He worried he might hurt himself with how hard his jaw was clenched.

“You're the worst,” the teen managed.

“And yet you've come more than I have,” the brunette teased.

When the server returned, Megatron rubbed harder, making the boy squirm. Just as the drinks were placed on the table, he flicked the swollen nub with a nail, making the raven-haired youth cry out in pain.

“Uh, did I do that?” the server asked, looking confused.

“Oh, no! No!” Gravescour said, laughing nervously. “I have a blister on my foot from dancing, and I moved my foot the wrong way,” he lied, tossing his hair in an attempt to look cute.

“I could bring you a cup of ice and a paper towel if you want,” the man offered.

“No, I'll be fine. I just have to be careful where I put my foot,” the teen said with a shake of his head. He heaved a huge sigh of relief when the server walked away, and started on his new drink immediately. He wanted to get intoxicated. He again blew bubbles in the drink when Megatron started to abuse his clit, forcing another gushing orgasm out of him, the man's own cock pulsing inside him not long after.

For a while, the drinks helped, but at the end of the second hour stuck on the massive prick that almost never seemed to soften, the stimulation started to grow painful. The older man would force his legs open over my time he tried to close them. When he stopped trying a fresh wave of hell washed over him. Megatron had something in his hand the next time he brought it back to the boy's genitals. The teen's cock had long gone soft, but the bigger man didn't seem to care that night. Something smooth and vaguely plastic-feeling rubbed over his abused clit, and the longer-haired boy whined. When it started to vibrate, the boy would have screamed if Megatron hadn't shoved two fingers deep into the boy's mouth, down his throat. He didn't let up, either, after the slender body writhed through yet another orgasm.

Tears streaked down the lean face, and Gravescour wanted to bite down on the fingers in his mouth, but he couldn't even move. He couldn't do anything but tremble as the older man forced orgasm after orgasm on the boy, his own length spewing inside the boy once more at some point in the torture.

When the brunette finally stopped the toy from its torturous buzzing, Gravescour sagged back against the big body, tears of relief pouring down his cheeks. “I can't take any more,” the teen groaned.

“You have twenty more minutes,” the brunette said coldly.

Fresh tears poured down the teen's cheeks and dropped off his chin.

Megatron managed one more orgasm, thankfully leaving the younger man's sore clit alone. “Alright, boy, you're free to go,” Megatron said as he slipped from the boy, a wave of his own seed and Gravescour's fluids following once the hole was no longer plugged.

Gravescour wanted to leave immediately, but he couldn't walk. Every time he moved a leg, his panties brushed his swollen clit and sent another wave of pleasure-pain through him. He sagged onto the cushion next to the man he hated with every fiber of his being. He closed his eyes for a moment, but his rest was interrupted by an acrid, alcoholic smell. He cracked his makeup and tear smeared eyes open to see Megatron holding his glass of whiskey under the boy's nose. Icy blue eyes glared daggers at the man.

“One for the road?” he asked, grinning something evil.

Summoning every last ounce of strength he had, Gravescour took the glass and downed the drink. He slammed the empty glass on the table so hard that one of the ice cubes bounced out. He hauled himself up with his arms and hobbled away without looking back.

He went to the bar and asked for Breakdown, leaning heavily on the polished surface when the bartender took out his walkie to call for the man. The redhead came trotting up quickly.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I'm just tired and want to go home. Need my bag.”

“Have you been crying?” Breakdown asked, gently pushing the teen's hair out of his face.

“Sweating,” Gravescour lied.

Breakdown frowned, but retrieved the bag anyway, and helped the younger man to the bathroom to change before he was shooed away.

Gravescour cleaned himself up, throwing away his panties, thankful for always packing spare briefs. He washed his face and changed into whatever he had in his bag, hoping he'd packed something that wouldn't gain him any unwanted attention. Luckily, it was a pair of jeans and a thin, long-sleeved shirt.

He felt numb as he walked out of the bar, his unfeeling legs on autopilot. He lit a cigarette and smoked it as he walked. And walked. And walked.

He found himself at the park by the river when he woke up from the pain in his feet. It turned out he actually did have a blister or two.

He sat on the edge of one of the fountains he'd watched with Ratchet not all that long ago and dropped his bag next to it. He huffed out a little laugh, his shoulders shaking with it, and soon dissolved into tears.

Gravescour wasn't sure how long he sobbed, but he didn't care. Survival was staying awake until sunrise. Or, at least, not getting robbed. When the boy heard a familiar, deep yet feminine voice, he quickly wiped his face with his sleeves and turned to see Arcee jogging up.

“Gravescour? What are you doing out here?” the older woman asked, slowing to a stop not far from the teen.

“Oh, I just-” His fake cheer caught in his throat as she sat on her haunches next to him.

“Have you been crying?” she asked, frowning slightly. “What happened?”

Gravescour looked away, bringing up one hand to rub at his opposite arm. “I was mugged,” he lied.

Arcee's gaze, caring though it was, felt like insects on the boy's skin. “Where did it happen, hun? And do you want me to take you to the police station to fill out a report?”

“N-no!” he said too quickly, almost shoving her away with how he held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn't lose much. I still have my phone, so I'll be alright,” he promised.

Arcee sighed. She sat on the edge of the fountain herself. “Where's Riot?”

“He's out at his vacation home with his dad,” the teen supplied.

“Oh, so that's why you're out alone. You could have called Ratchet to come pick you up, ya know.”

Gravescour shook his head and gave a little “uhn-uh” sound from his throat. “He works tomorrow. I didn't want to bother him,” he said.

Arcee scoffed. “He can lose a little sleep if it's for your safety,” the bluenette said. She took her phone from the holster she wore on her arm when she jogged and dialed the older man. “Hey Ratchet,” she greeted, and fought hard to fight off a laugh when the teen stared at her with bug-eyes. “You need to come pick up your boyfriend,” she said before the man on the other line could complain.

Gravescour could hear the worry in Ratchet's voice when he asked, “Where is he? What happened?” hurriedly, loud sounds of shuffling coming through the phone.

“We're at the river park,” she said, “and he says he was mugged.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital? Is he bleeding?”

“No. I looked him over, he's just shaken up. Look, I don't want you on the phone while you drive, so I'm hanging up,” she said and ended the call.

The silence after she put her phone back in its holster was deafening, and the teen felt the need to fill it with chatter.

“Why are you out so late, Miss Arcee?” he asked.

She hummed softly and leaned back on her hands to look up at what few stars could be seen through the light pollution of the city. “I couldn't sleep, so I decided to try to tire myself out,” she said, a soft, sad smile on her lips. She wasn't about to tell the teen that she'd had a nightmare and was literally running from her problems like she was prone to do.

“Oh,” was all Gravescour said, and silence filled the air again.

After a long moment, Arcee asked, “Will you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Will you tell Ratchet what really happened to you?”

The teen grimaced and looked away. “I can't promise anything right now,” he said honestly.

“I get it,” she said, “We all have to lie sometimes to protect ourselves. But, if you want our help, you're going to have to be honest with at least one of us.”

“I don't want to bother anyone,” Gravescour mumbled.

“Honestly, you'll be more trouble if you don't accept our help, but the choice is ultimately yours.”

Gravescour grabbed his bag just for something to do. His stomach cramped and he realized that he'd never gotten the food he'd been promised. He put a hand to his stomach, hiding the gesture behind his backpack. The two just sat there for a while in silence.

“Gravescour!” Ratchet called, running up.

The goth teen flinched at the sound of the other's voice.

“Gravescour,” he said again. He sounded so worried, but the teen couldn't look at him. “What happened? Where's Riot?”

Arcee cleared her throat to stop that line of questioning as she stood. “Just take him home,” she said, and that got the younger man's attention. His eyes were wide, tears already brimming at the thought of the adults waking up his mom and forcing him to go in the house with her. “And he needs to eat. His stomach has been scaring off the stray cats for the last twenty minutes.”

“Oh, uh, sure. We'll pick something up on the way home,” Ratchet said with a nod.

“I'll go with you. I probably won't sleep tonight anyway. It's one of _those_ nights,” she said and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Gravescour,” Ratchet addressed the teen, drawing his nervous stare. “Do you want to go back to my house?”

“I-” The teen licked his lips, finding they'd gone dry as his mouth was agape in fear, “I don't want to bother you.”

Ratchet's expression, he'd been trying to force a gentle smile, turned sad. “It's not a bother in situations like these,” the older man assured.

Eventually the two convinced the teen to come with them, and they picked up fast food on the way home. Gravescour was surprised to see Arcee tear into some fries, but couldn't fully appreciate it in his state. He didn't touch his own food despite his gut-gnawing hunger.

At Ratchet's place, he sat his bag on the floor by the couch, and his meal from the fast food joint on the coffee table. He stood by awkwardly until the older man asked him to have a seat.

“Will you be alright by yourself for a minute?” Ratchet asked. “Arcee and I need to talk.”

Gravescour simply nodded and curled up on one corner of the sofa, his arms around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. While the adults were in the kitchen, talking quietly, Gravescour snuck off to the bathroom. He threw up bile, his stomach roiling. He heaved again, and pulled his hair out of the way, even though he was sure there was nothing left for his stomach to give. He washed out his mouth, and headed back to the living room. He found both adults there and wondered how long he'd been gone.

“Do you want to get some rest?” Arcee offered. “You can take a nap in the spare room if you want.”

“I'm fine here,” he answered.

“Alright,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I'll take the bed, then.” She looked at the teen for a long moment. “Try to get some sleep tonight, hun.” She walked down the hall, into the available room.

Once the door was shut, Ratchet spoke; “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really,” Gravescour said, pushing his face into his knees.

“That's alright,” the older man said, “I won't make you. But I have to say that your lying game is really off if you couldn't even fool Arcee.” He looked at the teen out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry. I'm not on top of my game right now.”

The chatty, flirtatious teen giving such short, cropped answers made Ratchet sick to his stomach. “Well, try to get some rest,” he said, standing. He wanted to comfort the teen, but he could tell the boy didn't want to be touched. “If you want to talk, I'll be awake for a while. My room is the one at the end of the hall.” He walked off wishing he could do more.

Not twenty minutes later, the goth teen got up and padded on shoeless feet to the door that Ratchet said was his. He found it cracked slightly and peered in. Ratchet lay on his bed, idly flipping through channels on the small TV on the desk across from the foot of the bed. The teen quietly rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, and waited for the other to say something.

“Come in,” Ratchet offered, scooting over to make room for the boy. Gravescour sat delicately, avoiding contact with the surface, with Ratchet. The older man decided to simply wait and let the youth speak on his own time.

The first thing out of his mouth shocked the white-haired man. “I'm disgusting,” he said, dragging his toes across the carpet.

“What makes you say that?”

“I- I'm a whore.”

“You- uh- What now?”

“I wanted to save up money to move out on my own as soon as I turned eighteen, and I learned pretty young that little boy bodies were a hot commodity that I could sell at an exorbitant rate.

“Most of the time, I was okay with it. Shit happens. You have to use what you've got.

“But tonight, I- I hit an all-time low. I let Megatron fuck me in the bar, in public, for three-thousand credits. But that's not all.

“I accidentally dragged Riot into my bullshit. Megatron fucked him, too.” Gravescour chuckled bitterly. “What's worse is- is that I'm jealous of how Megatron treated him so much nicer than he treated me. Isn't that just hilarious?” He scrubbed his face with his sleeves, still laughing a bit. Before Ratchet could say a word, he continued, “I've always kinda known that I don't deserve the same kind of tenderness that he does, but I just never thought someone would throw it in my face like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Gravescour sniffed. “Oh, nothing. Just things Megatron said.

“Honestly, I kinda wanna die, but I can't leave Riot, and I only have to survive three more months before I'm free from all of the bullshit.”

“You're not disgusting, Gravescour,” Ratchet promised.

“Megatron held me on his dick in a booth at the back of the bar for three hours, and I didn't fight it because I wanted the money. I'm disgusting,” the boy reiterated. He sniffled as he waited for a response.

“Well,” Ratchet said, “it's not like I haven't had his dick before, either.”

“What?” Gravescour asked, turning a little to look at the white-haired man, to see the tense look on his features.

“Yeah, he, uh, he fucked everyone in our platoon except Arcee. Almost got her, too, but when she saw how big his dick was, she was all 'aw hell naw'.”

Gravescour laughed. He wiped his face with his sleeves and laughed again, tears rolling down his cheeks anew. He coughed weakly.

“If you're comfortable with it, you can lay in here with me tonight,” Ratchet offered.

“Can I shower first?” the teen asked.

“Sure,” the older man answered, “You know where the bathroom is.”

Fifteen long minutes later, Gravescour returned. He felt a little better, but not much. He'd thought about going back to the couch, but the desire to be near Ratchet was too strong. He'd forced himself to eat the fries from the meal Ratchet had bought him, even though they'd long gone cold. He threw the burger in the refrigerator before he headed back to the older man's room, taking his backpack with him. He dropped it on the floor and climbed onto the bed. He gave a little whine and Ratchet splayed an arm in offer. Gravescour went willingly, curling up against the man's side, trying not to shake when a thick arm wrapped around him.

“Oh, and for the record, I don't think you're disgusting.”

The teen gave a happy little sigh. He looked up at Ratchet, admiring his features in the light of the television. “I hope I can believe that someday. I really want to kiss you right now, but I feel like I'd just get you dirty, too.”

“Hun, I couldn't get any dirtier if I tried. You ain't gonna hurt anything by being honest with me.” Ratchet sighed and closed his eyes. He made a small noise in the back of his throat before he continued; “I want to kiss you, too, but the timing's not right. We can talk more about it tomorrow. Can you sleep with the TV on?"

“Mmhmm,” Gravescour hummed, grabbing a fist full of the older man's nightshirt to cling.

Ratchet sat the remote aside and leaned his cheek against the teen's moist hair. He sniffed, his own eyes starting to water with unshed tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubious consent warning for this chapter.

After checking on his food budget, and finding that the last time he'd ordered pizza was right after he got home from his last training exercise, Starscream had a brief uptick in mood as he got on his favorite pizza restaurant's website and loaded the virtual pizza with toppings. As soon as he placed the order, his mood fell with the closing of the laptop. He looked around the room and sighed. Everything was in shades of brown and gold and brass, even the books on the tall shelves that lined one wall. He left the study and headed for the bathroom. The house creaked and groaned as he walked, crying out with how empty it was. Once he reached the lou, he rifled through the cabinet for something to take the edge off. He took one of his own brick-shaped pills dry, then found the unlabeled bottle he kept behind his shaving supplies and emptied a few pills into his hand. He stared at them for a moment as he considered his situation. After a moment, all three pills went into his mouth and he swallowed them with the help of some water from the tap. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror and went to the living room to wait for his pizza.

After eating, he put the rest in the refrigerator. He leaned his heated forehead against the cool metal of the appliance and gave a happy little sigh at the feeling. Starscream stayed that way until he heard the front door open. He turned to greet his partner with a smile that was just a little too wide. “Welcome home, love,” he called with a dainty wave. “Pizza's in the 'fridge.”

Megatron looked the younger man up and down as he stalked over. He took Starscream by the elbow and pulled him to his chest. “What else is on the menu?” he asked, grinning.

Misunderstanding, the younger man started to list things he could cook.

Megatron laughed, pulling his wide-eyed partner toward the stairs by the grip on his elbow. “I meant you, dumbass,” the older man teased, no real venom in the insult. “You certainly look pliant right now,” he said, making it clear that he knew Starscream had been in his painkillers.

The younger man could only stutter out responses as he tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other so he wouldn't fall. He let himself be manhandled, giving a sigh of relief when strong arms picked him up and hefted him up the stairs. Before he knew it, he was on his back on the bed, his pants having been chucked to the floor, his slender fingers threaded in Megatron's short, brown locks, the older man's tongue reaching for his tonsils. He sighed into the mouth, loving the attention even if it was a bit out of the blue.

Knowing they'd need a little extra help that evening, Megatron fumbled for the lube in the bedside stand. Before long, he was opening the pliant blonde on three fingers. He drank up the way the younger man moaned and ran his fingers through his hair, practically worshiping his scalp. “You ready, beautiful?” Megatron asked, just to hear the noises the slender man would make at the praise. “I can't wait long enough to get my clothes off, I need to be inside you now, my love.”

Starscream just murmured his assent, his hands feeling out what little of his partner was exposed. The blonde hissed in pain when Megatron tried to shove in with one solid thrust, only three quarters of his length making it inside before he stopped. He looked down at the other and his sorry attempt to hide his pained grimace.

“What's wrong?” Megatron asked, giving shallow thrusts.

“It hurts a little,” Starscream admitted.

“You'll be alright,” Megatron promised, shoving deeper with a smirk. Mistaking the pained cry from his partner as one of his squeals of pleasure, the brunette started pounding. He leaned back to watch himself play with Starscream's clit.

Usually the lithe blonde stood at least a chance of being able to push his stronger partner's massive mitt away when he wasn't feeling it, but his limbs were sluggish and ineffective that day. He groaned miserably, pushing weakly at the other man's arm and chest. When Megatron took a hold of his thighs to thrust, the younger man screamed. He started actually fighting to get away, trying to push at the massive body with one heeled foot.

Confused, Megatron took the foot in hand and gently kissed the slender, bony ankle as he pulled back. He slipped from Starscream and paled when he found a thin film of something red and viscous amongst the lube. “Starscream,” he started, but stopped and backed off of the bed when the leg in his grasp weakly kicked at him.

“It hurts,” the blonde mumbled, turning on his side. No tears had fallen, but his eyebrows were turned up in the same sorrowful expression that usually meant tears, his nose wrinkled in the same manner. Slender hands went between firmly-closed thighs as if protecting himself and the brunette could only stare. “I don't feel good,” he mumbled, unaware of the situation and burying his face in the duvet. “Please stop.”

Megatron cursed and wiped his softening length with one of the wipes kept on the bedside stand and threw it in the waste bin, which he brought over to sit by the side of the bed. After zipping up, the brunette moved the prone body so he was laying the correct way on the bed. He huffed out another curse when Starscream muttered, “I'm sorry.”

Megatron went to the bathroom to grab a bottle of epicac and a glass of water. He sat both on the bedside stand just within the other's reach. After staring for a long moment, he cursed yet again and left the room.

Somewhere down the hall, he put his fist through the drywall. He hadn't meant to hurt his partner. In all his years, he'd torn so few of them, far fewer since he'd learned to properly prepare someone for his massive length.

Running a hand through his hair, Megatron growled under his breath. He stomped down the stairs and grabbed his keys, figuring Starscream would want to be alone for a while. He hadn't meant to slam the door behind himself, but he did.

* * *

When Gravescour woke up in the morning, he was disappointed that Ratchet wasn't there. But, as he became coherent, he remembered that the older man had to work that day. His stomach rumbled its dissatisfaction with the lack of food in it when he sat up to rub his eyes. He brightened a fair bit when he recalled his burger in the refrigerator, and ran out of the room to go get it. What he found in the kitchen made him stop in his tracks.

Ratchet and Arcee were playfully arguing about how much grease to leave on bacon after it was cooked. The older man wanted to just throw it on a plate, but she insisted on patting it down with a paper towel first.

“Uh, good morning,” the teen said, sounding a bit confused.

Arcee smirked. “It's afternoon, actually,” she said before Ratchet could greet the boy. “We all slept in.”

“Oh, but-” The raven-haired youth looked to Ratchet, “Don't you work today?”

“Eh, I called off. I have a ton of vacation days racked up, and they're planning on making me use them soon, anyway,” he said with a wave of the spatula in his hand. “Grab a plate.”

Gravescour did as told, eagerly, eyeing the bacon.

“Hey,” Arcee said cautiously as she watched the teen load his plate, “Are you sure you don't want to file a police report? We'll both go with you,” she offered.

Gravescour shook his head, giving a little “nuh-uh” as he did. “I just want to move past it,” he said holding out his plate for Ratchet to load with bacon. He grinned at the amount he received, knowing he wouldn't be able to finish it.

Arcee smiled. Despite the boy's poorly-hidden limp, he seemed to be in a good mood. She knew his emotions would be touch-and-go for a while, but nevertheless felt relieved. “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, we're both here,” the bluenette offered.

“Thanks, Miss Arcee.”

* * *

It took Gravescour an entire week to tell Riot what had happened. The white-haired teen was horrified, and refused to let his friend out of his sight for a few days. Both of them eventually agreed to never see Megatron alone.

A week after that, Riot had a little farewell party. It wasn't a grand affair, just some cake and a few friends.

The next morning, as the teen prepared to leave for his home for the next three months, Thrush comforted a grossly-sobbing Gravescour. “I really am proud of you, Riot. No matter what happens, you're always welcome back here,” Thrush promised as they walked to the teen's car.

“Thanks, Dad,” Riot said, giving a goofy smile to try to hide his glossy eyes. “Take care of Arial for me,” he asked.

“I will. You taught Gravescour how to clean her, so I'll take him down to see her every once in a while so she doesn't get lonely.”

“I'd appreciate that,” the older teen said, nodding. He turned to Gravescour. “Keep me updated, okay? I won't be able to respond every day, but I want to know what happens in your life.”

The younger teen could only nod, not wanting to risk crying again because he'd only just cleaned his face.

Thrush spoke up, “Listen to your superiors and bust your ass out there. I know you'll do great.” After a moment, he added, “I love you, Riot.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

“I love you, too, Riot!” Gravescour whined.

The white-haired teen laughed. “Love you too, goofball.” Riot sighed happily. “I couldn't decide who I wanted to give the last hug to, so, uh, group hug?” He blushed a bit as he held out his arms.

The others eagerly stepped into his embrace. Leaning back, Riot picked them both up. “Oh, I'll miss you guys,” he groaned.

When he could no longer see the other's car, Gravescour broke down into gross sobs again. Thrush put a comforting arm around the boy's shoulders. “Hey, he'll be back in three months. It's not like he's actually going off to war. It's just basic training.”

“I know,” the teen whined. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright. I'm getting a little misty-eyed myself,” the older man admitted. “But hey, just because Riot's away for a while doesn't mean you have to be a stranger, ya year? You're practically my second son at this point, so stop by every once in a while.” He was quiet for a moment. “And, ya know, some of your cookies might ease the pain of my youngest leaving the nest,” he suggested.

Gravescour laughed, sniffing loudly. “Yeah, I'll bring some by in the next few days. Promise.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Ratchet's phone dinged with a text. The older man had been lazing on the couch, watching an old movie Arcee had suggested, but he was glad for the distraction. The movie was too bad to even be funny.

 _You up?_ Gravescour asked.

_It's 8:30 on a Friday. Of course I'm awake. I'm not THAT old._

_Can I come over for a bit? I have something for you._

_Sure. What do you have for me?_

_It's a surprise! I'll be there in half an hour._

_Are you walking? I can pick you up._

_Don't worry about it! I already started walking lol_

_I live a little over five miles from your place._

_I walk fast._ Another text from the teen came quickly: _Mom kicked me out about an hour ago, anyway. I didn't feel like going to the bar, so I decided to go grab a soda and see if you were available.  
_ _I'm at the little store that's like about a mile from your place._

_I can drive down there and get you._

_It's cool. I need the exercise anyway._

_If you say so. See you soon._

Gravescour sent a heart emoji. Ratchet scoffed, but smiled anyway. He wondered what the teen got for him and hoped it wasn't something of a sexual nature. He could realistically see the teen reacting to what had happened with Megatron a few weeks ago by trying to prove he was just fine by jumping into bed with someone else. Though the younger man hadn't mentioned the bar again until his recent text. Ratchet decided to just wait, finishing out the last bit of Arcee's garbage movie recommendation.

His phone rang out with a text and he read the message: _I'm at the end of your street, so unlock your door!_

He got up and turned both locks. He opened the door to the boy bounding up the front steps with a grin on his face and a bruise over one eye. “What happened?” he asked as the boy walked past him, dumping his ever-present backpack on the floor by the sofa.

“Oh, mom just got mad at me for making cookies, that's all,” Gravescour explained, holding out a little decorative baggie closed with a twist tie. Ratchet held out his hands for it to be dropped in to. “She knocked the tray out of my hands and those are the ones that didn't hit the floor.”

Ratchet looked down at the cute little package in his hand, then up at the boy. He shut and locked the door and turned to Gravescour. “Is that all that happened?” he asked, holding the cookies in one hand so he could reach out to cup the teen's cheek and turn his face toward the light.

Gravescour gave an embarrassed little smile, the previously unnoticed blister above his eyebrow shining in the glow from above. “Well, if I'm honest,” the boy said, averting his gaze, “she took the tray from my hands when it was fresh out of the oven and hit me with it.” His awkward smile then turned into a smirk. “But she burned her dumbass hands in the process, so I'm not too upset about it.” He stuck his tongue out. “Oh, the ones in the bag landed on the table, I swear! No floor cookies!” he said quickly, pulling back to hold up his hands defensively.

“Hun, I've ate food out of the damn grass after brushing ants off of it. A floor cookie wouldn't kill me,” the older man said with a fond shake of his head.

“Well, that's not something you have to do anymore, is it? So why don't you try a table cookie instead?”

Ratchet chuckled and headed toward the kitchen, motioning for the boy to follow. “Let's get some milk, then.”

“Have you had dinner yet?” Gravescour asked, hot on the older man's heels.

“Popcorn counts, right?” Ratchet asked from behind the refrigerator door.

“No. Geez. People would get mad at me if I said something like that,” the raven-haired youth complained. “Can- can I um...”

“What?” Ratchet asked, pouring two glasses of milk.

“Can I make you dinner?”

After shutting the door, the older man raised a bright red brow at the teen.

“What?” Gravescour asked with a pout. “I'm actually really good at that domestic shit,” he defended himself.

The older man scoffed. “I don't doubt it,” he said, “What with how long you've survived without a decent parent.”

“Well, if you don't want to die, you teach yourself shit,” Gravescour said with a nod. “I also grew up with the internet, so you can learn pretty much anything on there.”

“Hey,” Ratchet complained, opening the bag of cookies, “I grew up on the internet too, ya know. I was a little bit younger than you when it first became popular with the common folk, thanks.” At least Gravescour had the decency to blush, he thought.

“Is it okay if I look through your cabinets for something to cook?”

“Knock yerself out,” the white-haired man offered. As soon as the teen started shuffling things around in the refrigerator, Ratchet muttered “holy shit.”

“Hmm?” Gravescour asked, too busy moving things around to look back.

“Your cookies are amazing!”

The teen laughed so hard that he hit his head on one of the shelves and yelped in pain before laughing again. “Thanks,” he managed between giggles. “I was gonna make a batch for Riot's dad to help him deal with his son being gone, but my mom ruined that.”

“I hate that you're still there,” Ratchet admitted, the hand with the unfinished cookie coming to rest on the table.

“Yeah, it sucks, but it's only three weeks longer that I have to put up with it,” the teen said. “Three weeks!” he repeated excitedly. “Oh, hey, what's this?” He pulled a tinfoil-covered plate out of the refrigerator.

“That's a, uh, rotisserie chicken that I made a few days ago and have been picking at,” Ratchet admitted with no small amount of shame. “It's almost gone, so I should probably throw it out.”

“I'll use it, then,” the teen said, unwrapping it to inspect it. “Oh yeah. That's got enough meat left on it for a stew or soup or something.” He pulled another package out. “You've got some celery, too. If you've got a can of corn or beans in the cabinet, we've got a meal right here.”

“I'm sure I have one of those things,” Ratchet said. He ate the rest of his cookie as he stood.

“Great! Can you put this in a pot on the stove with some of that chicken broth I saw in there? It's gonna need to boil for a while.”

“Sure,” Ratchet agreed. “Should I get you a knife for the celery?”

“No, I have one right here,” the teen said, his butterfly knife seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He twirled it around his fingers and Ratchet gasped out a “no,” clutching his chest as he backed away from the teen. Gravescour looked back to see the white-haired man looking even paler than he normally did. “What's wrong?” he asked softly.

Ratchet heaved out a huge sigh and pushed himself up from the table he'd come to lean against. “Maybe- maybe waving sharp objects around when I'm not expecting it isn't a good idea. I about slapped that out of your hand,” he said, his face reddening.

“Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't even think-”

“It's alright,” Ratchet interrupted, putting a shaky hand on the boy's shoulder. “Just warn me next time you're gonna pull some magic knife shenanigans.”

“I will. I'm so sorry.”

Ratchet waved the boy off and grabbed the chicken broth to get dinner started. While they waited on the boiling mass, Ratchet made coffee. He received a text from Arcee, and they texted off and on as he and Gravescour talked over the table cookies and milk.

“Whatcha texting about?” the teen asked.

“Oh, Arcee is just making fun of me for freaking out over your magic knife. Where do you keep that thing, anyway? You're wearing them skinny jeans tonight, and I'd see the outline of it if it was in your pocket.”

“That's my little secret,” Gravescour said with a wink. “Not even Riot knows where I hide my knife.”

“So, I guess you know how to take care of yourself, huh?”

“Oh yeah. I have a ton of weapons on me right now.”

“No guns, I hope,” Ratchet said nervously, scratching his stubble.

“Of course not,” the younger man said. “The fine for that is way bigger than that for, say, a knife or... prostitution.” Gravescour shook his head. “Wanna see all my weapons?”

“Uh, if you're comfortable with that?” Ratchet asked, his voice pitching up in mild confusion, maybe even fear.

“Sure thing!” the teen cheered, and started loading the table in front of himself. First came the knife, a small butterfly knife with a silver blade and black handles, paint faded from being handled so much. Next was his cellphone, which came from his pocket. “See this cute little kitty on the back?”

“Uh, yeah?” Ratchet asked, a bit disturbed that the teen would call the cartoon abomination on his phone “cute”.

“It's pepper spray,” he explained. “There's not much, and it's a bitch to replace the little canister, but I like having the extra security.” Gravescour then took off each of the rings on his right hand, laying each spiked and studded thing out on the table, taking special care with the one shaped like a rose. “I guess it's not as impressive as I thought,” the boy said with a slight pout. “Oh well,” he mumbled as he stood, walking around the table to Ratchet's side.

The older man watched him curiously, pushing his chair back to turn toward the younger man. “What's up?” he asked, gasping when he found himself with a lapful of slender teen. Gravescour smiled, wrapping his long, plaid-clad arms around the older man's shoulders.

“I'm completely unarmed right now,” he said, a hint of nervousness detectable in his voice.

Ratchet brought his hands up to the teen's back, gently stroking it over his overshirt. He swallowed thickly. “As am I,” he admitted.

The younger man's face looked so soft in the moment. The hard angles and steely gaze were replaced with soft, boyish edges and glittering pools of emotion. “The only person I've ever let myself be this vulnerable with was Riot,” Gravescour said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I- I'm flattered to have your trust,” Ratchet managed.

A small silence grew between them.

“I'm gonna kiss you now,” the teen announced. “Stop me if you don't want it.”

“I don't think I can,” the older man admitted as Gravescour closed the distance.

Their lips pressed together softly. A tiny, prolonged peck their first kiss. After giving a happy little coo, Gravescour pressed forward again, firmer the second time. Ratchet just held the teen, unable to move anything more than turn his head to return the soft kisses. However, when the younger man grew more bold in his approach, Ratchet had to gently ease the other back, terrified that he'd get the wrong idea. Thankfully, pale blue eyes just stared at him curiously as the teen cocked his head.

“No tongue,” Ratchet said firmly. He immediately softened; “For now. Alright?” He ever-so-tenderly stroked the slender young man's back. “I want to, but,” he trailed off, looking off over Gravescour's shoulder.

“I understand,” the teen said, resting his forehead against Ratchet's. “But I have to admit, you being such a gentleman about this makes me want you more,” he teased, voice airy. He smirked, delighted in the older man's shiver. After a moment, the younger man got up, checking on the soup.

They ate and had coffee. Over their second cup, Ratchet thought he'd bring up an idea he'd had. “So, I have Monday and Tuesday next week off. I was wondering if, maybe, you'd want to go camping with me. We could rent a little lot at the campgrounds just off the river, and I could give you that ride on my bike that you wanted,” he trailed off, finding it much harder to suggest in person than the texts he'd thought of sending.

“Trying to get me all alone?” Gravescour asked, a devious little grin on slim lips. “Somewhere where you can do anything to me, and no one else will be able to hear?” The teen seemed to be delighting in the ever increasing shade of red the other's face was turning. “I'm kidding, of course. But I'd love to. That sounds fun.”

“You're going to kill me,” Ratchet muttered. He then explained his reasoning; “I figured doing something new would help you get your mind off of Riot being away at basic.”

“Riot and I have actually gone camping before,” the teen said, his hands around his mug. “But I'd still love to. Even if you just wanted to get me alone.” The boy's voice took on a sexual lilt and the older man regretted many decisions in his life that led him to that moment.

“I- I look forward to it.” He picked up his phone and texted Arcee: _Help me, Arcee. I'm gonna fall in love with this brat._

She texted back almost immediately. _Just three more weeks to go!_

* * *

  
  


Starscream stood up straight for the first time in what felt like months. In his military dress uniform, he could actually smile. Though, he realized as he examined himself, it looked more like a smirk. He thought that suited him just fine.

As Starscream brushed the red lock of hair back with the rest of the slicked back mass, he noticed his lover approaching him from behind. The pride he'd felt at seeing himself in his blues vanished, even as the bigger brunette smiled warmly.

“You still look every bit as fantastic as you did the first time you put them on,” Megatron rumbled, wrapping his arms around sharp shoulders.

“Thanks,” the younger man said, trying to keep his smile in place, even as he curled in on himself.

“Be sure to contact me often,” the bigger man instructed, letting his scarred jaw rest on a slim shoulder.

“I-I will,” Starscream managed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

Riot quivered with nervous energy, feeling nearly naked without his keys and phone. He'd texted his father and Gravescour the last “I love you” texts he'd be able to send for a while before orientation. He was already sweating, having been ordered by his superiors, along with all the other young men and women, to run laps around the dirt course that ran through the training camp. The white-haired teen didn't have time to admire the scenery but, if he had, he'd have been in awe.

The base seemed almost carved out of a mountainside, rolling hills dotted with trees and striped with roads as far as the eye could see. From the highest point of the camp, one could see for miles: Training courses – obstacle, vehicle, and other – were the patches of green and brown just beyond one's direct line of sight. Higher on the mountain was a huge patch of woodland.

Higher still, a chilly, barren, snowless peak. At night, one could even see the lights from the closest cities, forty minutes by car.

Riot huffed to catch his breath as he and his colleagues were given a short break, their superiors generous for the moment after frightening the youths. The teen took that time to look around at the others that he soon hoped he would call his friends. He groaned inwardly as he realized he was a bit on the small side, even half of the women there were taller or thicker than he. Though, it cemented his will to work harder than he'd ever worked before.

Before long, they were separated into smaller groups, instructors calling out their names. It appeared to be into groups of twelve. To Riot's surprise, Bumblebee wound up in his squad. He hadn't even noticed the shorter boy during orientation or their run, much to his embarrassment. The two smiled at each other, standing close by as they awaited orders. He was again surprised when they received the first one.

It wasn't push-ups, as it seemed like everyone had been expecting. It was to stretch. When no one immediately followed the order, the lithe instructor shouted louder. Riot dropped down, pulling one leg into himself, the other stretched out for him to lean out and touch his toes. Bumblebee followed suit, and the others soon followed. Riot felt his face heat as the others seemed to look to him for which stretch to do.

“You call that stretching?” the instructor screeched, his fingertips to his chest. The stars on his collar labeled him a lieutenant. The name on his breast pocket read Starscream. “It seems I've got my work cut out for me,” he complained. “Follow my lead,” he said, looking around at his group. “Stand up!” he shouted, and all twelve of his subordinates jumped to their feet. The limber leader bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around his leg, touching his nose to his knee. A murmur of doubt rolled through the crowd of twelve, but they all tried the pose, anyway.

Riot came the closest out of any of the group, but his short stature wouldn't let his nose quite reach his knee.

“Ugh,” Starscream complained, his nose turned up, “Don't any of you stretch before physical activity?”

Riot chanced a glance up and found himself smitten, the older man standing there with a hand on his cocked hip as he surveyed the group. He then looked down his nose at the white-haired teen, and Riot felt his heart skip a beat. The slender man sauntered over as he called out an order to switch legs. Riot did as told, feeling sweat beading again in his nervousness of catching the instructor's attention.

“Your form wouldn't be terrible if you could keep your head down,” he said coolly. Starscream turned on his heel and headed back to the front of the group. “Since none of you know a damn thing about stretching, we're going to have to start with the basics.”

By the time they finished stretching, everyone was sweating again. Riot found himself parched. Watching that instructor contort his lean body into dramatic positions left him panting and feeling guilty. Starscream turned his gaze toward the sky as the younger man berated himself for being a pervert.

“Well, take two laps around the trail you ran earlier, then we'll break for lunch.”

Riot figured lunch would be a quiet affair, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Everyone was talking. The whole mess seemed to buzz with the chatter. Instructors other than his own dished out food, the large and imposing woman behind one of the silver tins dishing out an extra serving of what looked like vegetables to the white-haired teen. He blinked.

“Ya wanna get big and strong, don't you, young man?” she teased with a wink.

“Ah- uh- yes, ma'am. Thank you,” he managed, hurrying away. He was a bit disappointed when he didn't see his own instructor anywhere in the mess, but Bumblebee quickly joined him and he forgot about it.

After lunch, Starscream had his squad stretch again, making them all take deep and uncomfortable-looking positions as he walked around to survey them. Riot tensed when the man came close. He whimpered when he felt a boot on his lower back, pushing him lower to the ground.

“Again, not terrible,” Starscream said, just as coolly. He leaned over the young man with his boot still planted firmly on the other's back. “But I think you'd do a lot better if you paid attention to your own body, rather than mine, crewman.”

Riot bit back a moan at the taunting, the pull in his thighs, and the heat welling in his gut.  _ 'Seventy days of unwanted erections, here I come,' _ he thought.

After stretching, there was more running, push-ups, sit-ups, learning formation, and running sprints. Riot found himself wishing Gravescour were there next to him. From what they'd done so far, he was certain the younger teen would be able to handle it. Though, he reminded himself, Gravescour's whining would not be appreciated by anyone, and would gain both of them Starscream's ire. He decided he was glad that his best friend wasn't there, as much as he missed him, and that he would have to make sure the other was keeping up with his own workout routine the next time they talked.

They broke for dinner long before the sun reached the horizon, then were dismissed to the showers and to get to know their bunks and bunkmates before lights out. Not used to stewing in his own sweat, Riot wanted a shower more than anything, but Bumblebee dragged him off to the mess before he could even mention it.

When he could finally shower, the white-haired teen's dark skin turned several shades paler when he realized he wouldn't be alone. His filthy, sweat-stained clothes off, he wrapped himself in a towel as he planned a path to the shower cubicle. One of the guys he'd watched get assigned to another instructor made cooing noises at him.

“Whatcha hidin' under that towel?” he teased. “Even the girls are walking around butt-assed naked.”

“Yeah,” one of the girls said behind the shorter teen, pulling at the edge off the towel. “Be like me. Free the nipple. And the dick. And the pussy,” she said.

Riot hadn't meant to, but he accidentally let go of his towel when the girl spun him around.

“Aww,” she said, looking him up and down. “You're cute. I don't know why you were hiding that from us.”

“Yeah, man. You've got a cute little guy,” the bigger man teased.

Riot swallowed thickly, not knowing what to do with the attention. Others joined in with the soft cooing at his genitals, and he couldn't understand why his length started to fill in response.

“Alright, alright, that's enough,” Riot heard. His savior was a very pale redhead, not much taller than himself, and maybe slightly less defined. “Leave the hazing to your superiors,” he warned, his eyes trailing up and down the much darker-skinned body. “Get in the shower, crewman,” he said, handing the other his towel back. Riot could only nod. “Leave if you've bathed,” the redhead said, shooing off the other newbies with a wave of his hand. He soon joined Riot in the showers, taking the poor excuse for a stall across from his.

The stalls were little more than two flimsy plastic walls that stuck out between shower heads like the walls many bathrooms had between urinals. They did very little for modesty.

“Don't worry about them,” the redhead said, soaping himself up. “My name is Knock Out. What's yours?”

“Riot,” the wet, white-haired teen mumbled, turned away from the other.

“Aww,” Knock Out cooed. “A shy one, Riot?” he asked, joining the other in his cubicle. The younger man gasped when Knock Out touched his shoulder, gently turning him around. “They're right, though. You have a lovely member,” he said, delicately brushing his fingers along the underside. Riot stiffened, leaning his shoulders against the tile. “It's very shapely and quite symmetrical.”

An unreasonably soft hand stroked him, and Riot grit his teeth.

“Don't worry, I'm not too much bigger, nor am I a size queen. Not everyone can win the genetic lottery.”

When those fingers dipped lower, Riot put his hands on wet, pale shoulders. “Th-that's far enough. I don't even know you.”

“Can I do just this?” Knock Out asked, returning to the gentle stroking. “You can learn who I am while I help you take care of your problem.” Knock Out's grin was devilish, but Riot found the sharp features handsome, vaguely resembling Gravescour's face when he wore makeup.

“I-I suppose. What do you want in return?”

“Just to see the cute expression I'm sure you'll make when you come,” the redhead cooed. He continued the tender touch as he spoke. “I'm actually a First Class Airman, aaand technically the chef, but I have to do training again every two years while I'm active, so here I am, making the most of my first retraining.”

Riot felt weak in the knees as Knock Out leaned over him, putting his arm on the wall above the younger man's head.

“There's a bunch of cuties this time around,” he said.

Riot held on to pale shoulders, trying not to thrust into the hand.

Knock Out picked up the pace. “It's alright,” he cooed, “The faster you come, the faster you'll be able to get to sleep tonight. The first day is always the most stressful. You'll regret it if you don't sleep well tonight, Riot.”

The sound of his name pushed him over the edge, his length jumping in delicate fingers.

“Oh, that does look lovely.”

Riot finally found the spine to tease back; “My dick or the face I made?”

“Mm, both,” Knock Out said, tasting a bit of what was on his fingers before rinsing the rest off. “Alright, get clean, Riot, and have a good rest. I hope I'll see you around.”

“You too, I think?”

Knock Out laughed as he headed out to dry himself off. Riot washed quickly, wanting to put his clothes back on, hoping it would help him deal with his confusion. Once clean and mostly dry, he dressed and headed off to find his bunk. Exhausted, he didn't bother socializing even though lights out wasn't for another hour. He pulled the covers up to his nose, practically hiding.

_ 'This is going to be a long seventy days,' _ he thought.

* * *

Gravescour and Ratchet ironed out the details of camping over the phone the following night when the teen went home. He could hear the boy's mother yelling in the background and regretted sending him off. The teen assured him he was fine as he packed, that she was just yelling and hadn't been violent yet. Ratchet didn't want to hang up, but was assured that the door was locked, and he'd taken anything she could jam in the hole to unlock the door.

About twenty minutes later, Ratchet's phone rang out with a text.  _ Want a cute picture of me? _

He responded with _ As long as it's clean. _

A picture came in of Gravescour, his head tilted toward the light, a lazy smile on his face. His loose, oversized t-shirt was falling off of one shoulder, but it didn't look lewd.

_ That is a nice picture. _

_ Not pictured: the dildo I'm sitting on. _

_ OMG _ was all the older man could think to send back.

Gravescour's favorite flannel had a tear in the armpit when Ratchet picked him up from the store on Monday. The teen hooked his backpack of the storage on the back of the bike and hopped on behind Ratchet, pouting slightly when a helmet was thrust into his hands. But he put it on without argument and wrapped his arms around Ratchet's middle. The older man was relieved that Gravescour seemed to know how to be a decent motorcycle passenger, leaning with him as he turned. Before long, he could feel the younger man's erection against his backside and laughed, remembering how that had happened to him the first time he'd ridden bitch, too.

When they reached the check-in for the campsite, the teen looked embarrassed. Even though the older man couldn't see his face, Gravescour's posture was enough. Ratchet took off his helmet and let it rest on the bike's seat.

“Hey,” he tried to cheer the other up, helping him out of the helmet, “It happens to everyone their first time.”

Gravescour's face turned even redder at that.

“And it's not like I really mind it,” he offered, getting a shy glance from the teen. Ratchet stroked the fading red on the flushed face before pulling away. “I'm gonna go check in now,” he said, “Back in a minute.”

The paperwork finished, Ratchet returned to the bike and started unhooking their gear as the teen finished his cigarette.

“So good you needed a smoke?” Ratchet teased.

“Dude,” was all the younger man could say for a while as the older laughed. “That felt... really good,” he admitted after a long moment.

“Little secret,” Ratchet said with a grin, handing the teen his bag, “If you move it so it's laying against your thigh, it feels a lot better.”

Gravescour almost dropped his bag at that.

“Think you can help me carry this stuff?” the older man teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners in his mirth.

Without a word and blushing furiously, Gravescour took the tent and sleeping bags and more than half of the water, leaving only a canteen, a small bag and a mini-cooler for Ratchet to carry.

“You didn't have to take it all,” he huffed.

The teen only “humph'ed” and walked off toward the trail leaning out of the parking lot. Once they found their lot, Gravescour proved to be more help than the older man thought he would. He didn't know everything, but he adapted quickly enough to Ratchet's requests and made setup a breeze. They gathered wood for a fire, and Ratchet admitted he was surprised the teen picked out dry logs, sticks and kindling instead of bringing him wet stuff he just hoped would burn.

The raven-haired youth laughed. “Riot and I have a campfire every time he spends the night at my place,” he said, making a pyramid with the thicker sticks in the fire pit.

“I can't imagine your mother being okay with that,” Ratchet said, digging through his bag for his flint and steel.

“Oddly she never seemed to notice,” Gravescour said, laughing. “Even when we burned her shit.”

“You burned her shit?”

“Oh yes,” the teen said as Ratchet sparked up the crumpled newspaper under the dry twigs. He seemed to hesitate for only a moment before he said, “I don't want you to think I'm completely innocent in all of this. I've hated that woman for as long as I can remember.”

Both of them watched the kindling catch, Ratchet listening intently to the youth.

“I've stolen from her, broken, burned, and sold her stuff. Before she caught on, I'd take twenty credits from her purse every time she hit me.”

Ratchet sighed during the pause in Gravescour's words. He put a larger log into the burning pyre as the teen continued; “Yeah, it's a shitty situation, but I don't take it lying down.” The teen then snorted. “Or, I guess I did, but not anymore, and definitely not from her.”

Ratchet blinked. He looked over at the boy. “Not anymore?”

The youth met his eyes for a moment, then looked away. He tucked his hair behind his ear. “I thought we were gonna date,” he mumbled.

“I- well-” The older man swallowed a lump that had built in his throat. “When you turn eighteen, yeah.”

Gravescour smiled. “Can't have a decorated war vet  _ doctor _ dating a prostitute, now can we?”

Teal eyes widened, giving the boy an astonished stare. “I'm so relieved to hear you say that,” the older man admitted, his hand unwillingly coming up to his chest, hand clenched in his white shirt. “But I'm also afraid of how you're going to support yourself now.” He knew the boy wouldn't accept his help directly, so he didn't even bother offering.

“I have a fair bit of money saved up,” the teen said. “I can probably support myself on my own for a year if I find a cheap apartment and I'm frugal.”

The log had caught and started burning, making the teen's face light up.

“I've also been putting job applications in to places whenever I can get out to the library.” His expression dropped then. “But I'm kinda worried that I won't be able to actually get a job until all of my bruises heal.”

“If you want,” Ratchet offered, hoping he wouldn't regret it, “you can stay at my place until they heal.” Barely above a whisper, he added, “If you want to stay, that is.”

Gravescour moved closer after Ratchet added another log to distract himself from what he'd just said. “You plan on making an honest man out of me?” Gravescour teased.

“I don't mean to change you if you don't want to change. That's up to you.” The older man didn't stiffen when the teen lay his head on his shoulder.

“Nah, it's about that time,” the younger man said. There was only a hint of sadness to his voice. “It's felt more dangerous lately, anyway. I- I had to pull my knife on a guy who wouldn't stop digging his fingers into my bruises, and then there's Megatron.” The boy trailed off.

“About him,” Ratchet started, pulling back a bit. Before the teen could dart away, he put an arm around his shoulders. “I think it's about time I tell you a thing or two about him so it doesn't come back to bite either of us in the ass.”

“Okay,” Gravescour said quietly, letting himself lean into the embrace.

“He's, well, he's supposed to be dating a friend of mine,” the older man said, offering the teen a stick to poke the fire with his free hand. Gravescour happily accepted and dug into the burning mass as he listened. “I wasn't sure when the right time to tell you would be, if at all. If my friend got upset, I didn't want you to think it was your fault. You didn't know he was supposed to be in a relationship.”

The raven-haired youth looked up at Ratchet. “I won't blame myself for the actions of others,” he said. “But,” he added after a moment, “your friend has shitty taste in men.”

Ratchet tried not to laugh, but the sudden thing caught him by surprise. “He does. We've all been trying to get him to leave Megatron for years now.”

“ _ Years _ ?” the teen stressed the word. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” Ratchet agreed with a heavy sigh. “Hey, do you want a beer? Because I sure do.”

“You're going to give me a beer?”

“It's a beer, not hard liquor,” the older man groused, moving away to grab the cooler. “If one beer gets you drunk, I'm not letting you out of my sight until you gain ten pounds, because you shouldn't have that low of a tolerance, even at your age.”

“I'm just messin' around. If you'll give me one, I'll take it.”

Ratchet handed one of the golden cans to the boy and cracked into his own. “I wish we could do something about Megatron,” he said with a sigh, leaning back against one of the logs that had been placed for campers to sit on. “He keeps Star on a short leash, though, so we can't keep him away for more than a few nights at a time. He never wants to believe that Megatron will hurt him.”

“That's some battered spouse syndrome right there,” Gravescour said, Ratchet giving a bitter little laugh at the absurdity of the teen commenting on someone else's abuse.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But none of us have been able to prove that to him.”

“Why not just get rid of Megatron then?”

Ratchet barked out a laugh in response, glad he didn't have anything in his mouth. “I know you did not just tell me to off Megatron,” the older man said in disbelief.

“No!” Gravescour raised his voice a bit, blushing. He popped the tab on the beer. “Just, ya know, send him to prison.”

“How?”

“Get pictures of your friend's bruises. Have him record him screaming at him. I've thought about doing all this with my mom.” After a moment where he just sipped on the bitter liquid, Gravescour added, quietly; “After I turn eighteen, have the cops search his computer. He said he had my videos.”

Remembering the conversation he'd had with Arcee, Ratchet could only mutter, “W-what?”

“I'm not proud of it, but I did some porn when I was younger,” Gravescour said, turning his attention back to poking the fire. “One of the times he hired me, he told me he had my videos.”

“Plural?” Ratchet asked, his lip curling in disgust.

“Yeah, dozens. Hundreds, maybe, but I doubt it's that many,” the teen said. “I wasn't really all that informed or in charge of my sexuality at that point, so I'm not going to beat myself up over it.” He smirked. “But, once I don't have to be a foster care ping pong ball, I don't mind helping your friend get out of his shitty relationship.”

Ratchet struggled to get out his next question; “How many times did you, uh, with Megatron?”

“Hmm? I don't see why it matters, but, hmm... three? Four, technically, but two were in the same day.” Gravescour's eyes widened and he slapped the side of his can. “I just remembered something I needed to tell you.”

“What's that?”

“Ah, well, Gravescour isn't my legal name. Not yet, anyway,” he said, his eyes tight with nerves.

“You changed it because your name was released with the videos, didn't you?”

“Well, I want to, but my mom insisted that it was fine.”

“Why wouldn't she want to protect your identity?” Ratchet asked more to himself than the boy.

Gravescour stood, his beer in hand. “She never cared about me,” he said, though he didn't sound upset. He sounded to Ratchet as if he was simply stating facts. “After my other mom died, I was just a reminder of what she lost. I'm not saying that to forgive her actions, just to understand why she was such a bitch. It was no excuse for her to hurt me in all the ways she did, but at least I know why she did it.”

Ratchet finished off his beer and grabbed another before he joined the teen on his feet. “You're a mature young man,” Ratchet said fondly. He would have reached out for the other, but he knew he wouldn't want to be touched after that conversation, so he kept his hands to himself.

Gravescour blushed and looked off through the trees. “I'm seventeen, hitting on a guy who  is almost fifty, drinking a beer and about to take my shoes off and go play in the creek, but tell me again how I'm mature. I'll let you stroke my ego for a bit,” the dark-haired teen said, sticking out his tongue.

Ratchet chuckled, following the teen as he started to walk toward the little stream of water that broke the campsite in half, still within view of the fire. Gravescour played in the water, shoes cast aside on the grass, hopping from rock to rock.

The two found rocks that were flat and smooth, and tried to skip them, but there wasn't enough water for the game. Both of them rolled up their sleeves and turned over rocks, finding crawdads in the shallows. They joked about cooking them for dinner, but wound up letting them go. As the light started to fade, they went back to the fire, and added more wood before breaking out the campfire foods.

“Beans and wieners,” Ratchet called them, earning a giggle from the teen. They made s'mores, and the younger man couldn't resist smearing melted marshmallow goo on the older man just to hear him complain. Sticky though he was, Ratchet felt truly happy for the first time in quite a while.

The two washed their hands and utensils in the creek, and brought back a pot of water to pour over the fire. They turned it to make sure it was out.

When they retired to their tent, Ratchet unzipped one sleeping bag and laid it out over the floor liner. “Is it alright if we share?” he asked. “I thought that if we did, the temptation might be too great, but I'm tired and I've had enough to drink that I don't think I could get it up if I tried.”

Gravescour gave a drained little laugh. “If you'll hold me for a while, I won't complain,” the teen said, taking off his flannel, leaving him in jeans and a t-shirt.

“I really shouldn't, but yeah, I want to,” the older man admitted.

“I won't try anything, I swear,” the boy said, curling up in Ratchet's side when the man laid down.

Ratchet turned off the battery powered lantern and gave slim lips a brief kiss before settling in to sleep.

* * *

Riot had settled into the routine by the end of the first week of his training. Though an eager energy started to build within his squad by Saturday. They were going to start something new on Monday.

Despite his initial creepiness, Knock Out wound up being someone Riot enjoyed hanging out with. The redhead wasn't able to see him during meals, as the man had to do his job, but in the evening when they were all allowed time to socialize, he would sit with Riot and Bumblebee. He brought a pack of cards, and he and Riot taught the younger blonde how to play poker. Occasionally others would join them. Riot was relieved that the last day of the week seemed to be something of a down day, the morning seemingly reserved for various church services and rest. Riot hadn't seen anything that looked like a chapel, but he assumed there were chaplains that gave sermons. He briefly considered going to some of them out of curiosity, if only to see which religions were represented among his class. Instead, however, he decided to go see what the requirements were to get access to his phone.

Lunch appeared to be a big affair on Sundays, tables at the front of the mess lined with all manners of food, breakfast and lunch types. Though, with services still going on, only a few crewmen milled about. Riot found the gigantic woman who always forced extra vegetables on him when he came through the line enjoying her own heaped plate of artery clogging breakfast foods, laughing with a couple of other instructors Riot had yet to meet.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Leveler,” he greeted quietly. “Would it- would it be alright if I ate with you?” he asked, eyes downcast.

She looked up and smiled brightly, a sausage between her teeth like a cigar. “Of course!” she said, practically beaming. “Most of the new recruits are too shy to even greet me for the first month, so I'd be delighted to have some company!”

“You're over six feet tall, and more muscular than most of the men, Leveler,” one of the instructors sitting with her reasoned, “Of course the kids are afraid'a you!” They shared a laugh as Riot sat.

“Somethin' on your mind, hun?” she asked.

“Well,” the white-haired teen started, cutting into his own pancakes, “I- uh, I actually wanted to ask you a question about, um, making phone calls?”

Her smile softened. “Aww,” she cooed, putting a massive paw on Riot's shoulder, “Feelin' homesick, hun?”

“Don't baby the kid, Leveler,” one of the others at the table complained.

“Yeah, you gentle giants are gonna spoil the newbies,” the other added.

“Hey now,” she said, pointing a knife full of greasy hash browns at one of them, “us supply line guys have to show a little bit of compassion. We're the ones that have to lift the spirits of the guys who are stretched thin and in risk of starving.” She turned back to the teen, who looked to be fighting between smiling and shrinking away. “You can ask your direct superior if you can make a call.” She looked a bit sad, putting her fork down to tug at her curly blonde ponytail. “But you have Starscream, if I remember correctly, so it might be a bit difficult to convince him to let you do that.”

The other men pulled faces.

“Yeah, good luck with that one,” one of them said.

“I can back you up if you absolutely need it, but if you wanna call me in for backup, I'd suggest waiting until next weekend when he'll be a little easier to soften up.”

“Thanks,” Riot said quietly.

They ate and chatted, Riot scurried off as soon as the hall started to fill.

He found Starscream after a long search, in the office he used in their barracks. The door was cracked, and the slender man had one leg crossed over the other. He chewed on a pencil, looking down at some paperwork.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Starscream?” Riot asked nervously, finding his mouth suddenly dry as he watched perfectly white teeth worry the yellow-painted wood.

“Yes, what is it?” the man asked without looking up.

“I- I was wondering if I might be allowed to make a phone call,” the dark-skinned teen muttered, a hand on the doorframe.

Starscream looked up then. Riot averted his eyes as that gaze caught him. “For what purpose?” the older man asked.

“I- I just wanted to let people back home know I'm doing alright,” he said, managing a slight nod.

Starscream raised a brow. He couldn't see much of the boy through the foot wide gap the door left. “Come in,” he ordered. He leaned back in his chair, looking the younger man up and down as he entered. “Close the door,” he said, and it was done. Starscream admired the blush rising on the darker cheeks, and couldn't help but grin at the boy's appearance. He was silently impressed that Riot had the nerve to approach him, after he'd taunted him all week. “Do you have a sick relative, or...?” Starscream trailed off, raising a brow.

“N-no, sir. I'm just- just worried that my best friend is slacking off in his exercise with me gone, and that my dad is going to eat himself to death with me gone.”

That last part earned the platinum blonde teen a chuckle. “I don't think that really qualifies as a reason for me to let you make a call,” the older man said, looking down his nose at the near-trembling teen. “Unless your father has an eating disorder.” Starscream cringed at the words that came out of his mouth, but luckily the teen found the tile pattern on the floor more interesting than him at that moment.

“N-not that I'm aware of, sir,” Riot mumbled. He then looked up. “But, maybe there's something I can do to earn it,” he suggested. Starscream's eyes widened, dirty thoughts running wild with his imagination. “I could take an extra latrine duty, or help clean the mess after lunch,” the younger man offered.

“Hmm,” Starscream hummed, considering the situation for a long moment. He knew the boy was attracted to him, he'd seen his pupils blow wide whenever he pushed him to stretch harder, the barely-concealed erections. His own length had already started to make itself known. He palmed himself through his pants as he asked; “How well can you keep a secret?”

“Very well, sir!” the teen said excitedly, looking up.

The eagerness on the youthful face made Starscream's length throb. “If you swear on your life to tell  _ no one _ ,” he stressed, “I'll let you make a half-hour phone call in exchange for sucking my dick.”

“What?” Riot asked, his voice small.

“Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at me, boy,” Starscream said, uncrossing his legs to put the bulge on display. “Or the erections you get whenever I touch you,” he added as he unzipped his trousers and took out his length. He gave it a few slow strokes as he watched Riot's body react: eyes blown, a tent forming in his own trousers. “Well?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Riot said, dropping to his knees so quickly they made a painful-sounding 'thunk' on the floor.

Before Starscream could even think about expressing concern, he found his long, slender length in a somewhat petite hand, the boy staring in awe as he stroked. After a minute, the older man grew impatient, feeling pressure building already. “I said suck it, not stare at it,” he hissed. The hiss faded into a quiet little cry of pleasure when lips wrapped around the head of his shaft.

A thick, flat tongue did wonderful things to his throbbing prick as the boy took more. He slobbered all over the older man, but neither could find it within themselves to care. Starscream pushed black-and-white bangs out of the boy's face to watch himself disappear between wet, pliant flesh.

“Oh, yes,” Starscream moaned softly, pushing his hips up in shallow thrusts, “You must really want to make that call.” Riot whimpered around the length, stroking what he couldn't take. “You better swallow every last drop, crewman,” he warned just seconds before his length started to pulse, feeding the boy a massive load pent up from lack of use.

Riot gagged a little, rubbing himself through his pants, but he sucked up every drop. The slurping noises from the boy making Starscream's thighs quiver. Once he came down, Starscream couldn't help giving the slack lips a teasing slap with his softening length.

“Good boy,” he said as he packed himself away. After a deep breath, he wheeled himself over to the filing cabinet not too far away and started ticking through it. He found the pocket with Riot's phone and keys, and turned the phone over to the young man who was still on his knees, palming himself. “You have thirty minutes,” the older man teased. “I want this phone back in my hands in thirty minutes and one second, you hear?”

“Yes sir,” Riot groaned, fighting to pull his hand away from his dick to take it.

“Go use it in the showers so no one sees you.”

“Yes sir,” the younger man said again, getting to shaky feet. “Thank you, sir.”

Starscream only smirked in response as he watched the boy hobble out of his office, covering himself and checking for people in the hall.

Once in the bathroom, the white-haired teen darted to the back of the shower stalls for as much privacy as he could get. He dropped his pants as he dialed Gravescour.

“Oh my god, hey!” the other teen greeted.

“Please tell me you're alone right now,” Riot gasped desperately, letting his free hand wander beyond his length to tease at his folds, finding them already leaking with moisture.

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?”

Touched by his friend's concern, the older boy gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just really, really horny. My fucking pussy is dripping wet, and I was hoping you could help me out,” he growled, using a finger to part his slit just a little. In his haste and arousal, Riot didn't notice the other presence in the showers, at the other end where his superior officer had snuck in to listen.

“Damn,” Gravescour said. “Yeah, I got time. What got your pussy so wet, sweet cheeks?” the younger teen teased, a sexual lilt to his voice.

“It's my goddamn drill sergeant,” Riot admitted. “He's so fucking hot, man,” he panted. Starscream was glad the boy didn't hear him gasp as he continued; “I'm in the showers, fingering my pussy because I can't stop fantasizing about him fucking me.”

“Fuck that's hot,” the voice on the other line moaned. “Shove those fingers in deep,” he cooed.

“He keeps teasing me,” Riot said, spreading his legs so he could get his fingers deeper. It also gave Starscream a better view of the wet hole being battered by two thick fingers. “He knows I think he's hot, and he says things that just get me fucking going,” he groaned.

“How many fingers are you using?”

“Two.”

The younger teen hummed. “Add another,” he instructed, “You'll need to be stretched out for that big cock to pound your horny little pussy.”

“Oh god, yes,” Riot gasped as he forced in a third alongside the others. “I want that dick so fucking bad. God, I wish I had the words,” he whined, his hips shoving down on the fingers as he forced them up inside.

Starscream was stunned, but not too stunned to realize his prick had grown erect again and throbbed insistently against his pants. With the boy lost in his dirty call, the man figured he could risk rubbing another one out.

“Oh yeah, fuck me, fuck me,” Riot begged as he plowed himself with his fingers. He held the phone with his shoulder so he could use his other hand to rub his fingers over his clit. “Yeah, I'm rubbing my clit,” he said in answer to the question from the other line. “It's gonna make me come,” the boy gasped.

Starscream almost chuckled, thinking he felt the same way as his hand flew over his stiff prick.

“I'm gonna fucking come on his dick, it feels so good!”

“I bet your pussy feels so good on his dick, Riot,” Gravescour moaned, clearly playing with himself as well. “Come on it, come on his dick hard so he can fill your fucking pussy full of come.”

Riot curled in on himself through his orgasm, the sounds of his fingers getting wetter and louder as he fucked himself through it, whining by the time the throbbing stopped. “Fuck, 'Scour. Thanks, man,” he moaned. “I fucking needed that so bad.”

Starscream stifled his gasp by biting into his forearm, looking down to watch his seed drop to the floor, imagining himself squirting it all over the teen's pussy as he fingered himself. He intended to leave after that, but the conversation the two had caught his attention through the blood rushing in his ears.

“Man, I've found myself wishing you were here with me so much,” Riot admitted, lazily stroking his half-hard length that he had neglected before. “So far, you'd be able to do everything we've done so far.”

“Even the push-ups?” Gravescour asked incredulously.

Starscream found himself able to hear both sides of the conversation once everyone's breathing had returned to normal.

“Yeah, 'Scour, even the push-ups. So far, the most we've done in a day was like, uh, a hundred-and-twenty maybe? At most,” the older teen promised. He finally decided to pull up his pants in case someone came in, but only enough that they covered him and not to make a mess of his emissions. He laughed at the gagging noise his friend made at the absurd amount of push-ups. “You're still doing at least forty every day, right? I'ma have to beat your ass when I get back if you're not.”

“I am!” the teen on the other line whined. “I'm trying to get fifty, but my arms aren't exactly my strong suit,” he complained.

“Yeah, all your power is in your legs,” Riot said with a laugh. “I'm sure you could handle all the running we do here. You'd put everyone in my squad to shame, I bet. I don't know how, since you're so damn thin. Oh!” Riot said with a little gasp. “That reminds me,” he said, a hint of worry in his voice.

The other teen picked up on it right away. “What's wrong?” Gravescour asked.

“Ah, nothing, I don't think,” and Starscream tensed, thinking he may have been caught eavesdropping, “That hot drill instructor is pretty thin, too. Almost worryingly so. But, I guess, if you get by,” he trailed off. “I dunno, man. It doesn't seem right that my instructor has the body of a prima ballerina, ya know?”

“Honestly I feel a little insulted, too,” Gravescour groused. “You compare us so much, then you say he looks like a damn ballerina. Am I a joke to you?” He couldn't say it seriously and chuckled. “But, ya know, it is what it is. Maybe he just can't gain weight?”

“Maybe,” Riot said, drawing out the word, “but I think I could wrap my hand around his ankle, and that's not healthy.”

“Just make sure he gets plenty of water, and I'm sure he'll be fine. He is your superior officer, after all. He has to be doing something right to have that position.”

“Yeah, you're right.” The white-haired teen paused to laugh. “Man, I miss you. Just nine more weeks.”

Starscream made his way out of the toilets and back to his office as the teens said their goodbyes. He found his face heated, sure he was blushing. He felt elated, and he wasn't sure why. He chocked it up it up to the thrill of getting away with something naughty, and refused to believe that the teen expressing worry for him had anything to do with it.

Back in the showers, Riot bid his best friend farewell and called his dad for a quick update. The older man was surprised the boy was allowed access to his phone, and made up some excuse about ironing his commanding officer's clothes to have the privilege. For some reason that Riot decided he'd question later, the thought of ironing Starscream's clothes made his dick give in interested twitch. Not wanting to deal with that while on the phone with his father, he changed the subject.

Thrush told him about getting a batch of Gravescour's cookies, and quite possibly scaring the boy when he pulled his vampire shtick. They had a good laugh.

Eventually they had to say goodbye as his time was running short.

Off the phone, Riot cleaned himself up quickly and checked his appearance in the mirror before walking briskly to Starscream's office to return his phone. It was an awkward moment, but over quickly. He wandered off afterward to find Bumblebee and Knock Out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome.


	10. Chapter 10

The following morning, the new recruits learned what hell it would be to carry their full gear as they headed off to their first obstacle course after breakfast. Each member of Starscream's squad was tasked with carrying four times the amount of water they'd need, the temperature reaching the high nineties the perfect excuse. The whole squad was worn down by the time they'd made it to the course, jogging the whole way.

“Sip some water, girls and boys,” Starscream instructed, taking a sip from his own canteen when they stopped. As the trainees rehydrated, he explained the adventure they'd be embarking on before lunch. Bumblebee's eyes almost rolled back in his skull at the extensive list.

They began, following Starscream's barked orders. As their leader's volume dropped, many in the squad assumed their hearing was giving way to exhaustion. Riot had just pulled his small blonde friend over the net wall their current course was graced with when the orders stopped mid-sentence. Dropping to the ground, both blondes looked to their sergeant only to see him crumpled on the rocky ground in a heap.

Not knowing what possessed him to do so, Riot ran over. He knelt by the prone, too-thin form and started barking orders. “Fall in! Block the sun! Give me a canteen! Bumblebee, Bluestreak, run back to camp and get help!”

As soon as he was handed a canteen, Riot pulled off his shirt and balled it up. He poured water over it and gently patted down the older man's face. The others watched as the dark-skinned boy tended to the older man, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Before long, Bumblebee and Bluestreak came trotting back up, help in tow.

Starscream started to come to when his squad moved out of the way for the more experienced officers to take over. All he could see was Riot looking down at him, the teen appearing to have a halo of light around his form from his vision being so blurry and the sun so bright. One of the older men thanked the white-haired teen for his help, then had him moved aside so he could tend to Starscream.

Riot stood with Bumblebee as the men saw to their drill sergeant, and they both felt sick to their stomachs. The recruits were told to head to the mess, and a temporary replacement would be found for them after lunch. Riot's stomach gave an uneasy pitch at both the idea of eating and a replacement for Starscream.

Starscream was brought into an air-conditioned room and hooked up to a fluid drip as one of the on-site medical staff looked him over. It took a while before a diagnosis was returned and the lanky officer groaned miserably. At least, he thought, it was only dehydration. He was ordered to take three days off, and would be assessed on Friday for whether or not he would be allowed to return to work the next week.

He dreaded the time off the entire ride back to the city. Starscream considered just going to Ratchet's house instead, but with Megatron listed as his emergency contact, he knew the older man was already aware of his forced leave. His hands shook a little as he tried the knob to their front door, finding it unlocked. He walked in and announced himself, peering around corners until he found his partner in the kitchen, laying out food on the table. It looked absolutely delicious – a roast already half carved, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and a huge bowl of steamed vegetables – but the brunette looking over at him had the slighter man's attention.

“Starscream,” he said, his voice full of relief. Off went the oven mitts and that ridiculous pink apron which was apparently the only one they owned. Being drawn into the burly chest of a man in only a t-shirt and sweatpants had Starscream drowning in feelings he didn't want to deal with at the moment. He sagged into the embrace for a long moment. “I was so worried when I heard what happened,” Megatron explained. “I was going to come pick you up, but the guy told me you insisted on driving home. I about ripped him a new asshole through the phone. I've been cooking ever since.” As he spoke, scarred lips brushed platinum blonde locks.

“I'm sorry,” Starscream mumbled.

“Shh, save the apologies for later. Eat and recover now.” Megatron drew away and led his partner to the table, encouraging him to sit. He heaped a plate full of food for the younger man, and gave him a glass of ice water. He filled his own plate and sat across from the other.

Starscream just stared at his food, salivating as his stomach rolled uncomfortably.

“What's wrong?” Megatron asked, picking up his own fork.

“My stomach hurts,” Starscream said quietly.

“You're probably hungry,” came the explanation. “Try to eat at least a little, then we can go relax in bed. I want to take care of you while you're on leave.”

The younger man swallowed thickly, thoughts of the white-haired new recruit of his came to mind then. How the boy stared at him while they stretched, how he'd given the messiest head he'd ever received, and how he'd been the one looking out for him when he collapsed. He really didn't want to eat, but he picked up a fork and nibbled at the food his partner had made while he wallowed in guilt.

Afterward, Megatron cleaned up the food, packing it all away. He then led Starscream up the stairs to their bedroom. Neither of them undressed, as their clothes could be fit for sleep.

As they lay in bed, Megatron suggested, “Why don't you retire?” The body under his tenderly stroking hand tensed. “That way, you can focus on your health. I can't be worrying about this happening every time you go away.”

“This is the first time it's happened,” Starscream defended. “I just got a little too carried away in the heat. That's no reason to retire.”

“But wouldn't it be great to retire at your age? We'd have so much time left to just do whatever we wanted. We could travel like we used to talk about.”

“I don't want to retire, Megatron,” Starscream mumbled, his face in his folded arms, legs stretched out behind him. He wanted to move away from the hand on his back, but he held still.

“Maybe you should,” the brunette said firmly.

“This is what I always wanted to do,” the younger man whined. “They were gonna let me train a class of new pilots in the fall. I'm gonna get back in a plane. I can't quit now.”

“You're falling apart.”

“I am not!” Starscream screeched, rolling away from the hand to sit up. “I made a little mistake! I can get over it and get back out there by next Monday.”

“Star, I can take care of you. You can take my plane out on occasion.”

“That'll be great, when I actually retire! I want to fly for the Air Force as long as I can. I want to train future generations to have the same love for flying that I do! I'm sorry you can't understand that, but I can't give up my dream while it's still within my grasp.” Megatron's upper lip turned up in a snarl. “Oh shit,” he muttered, realizing his mistake.

“You already lived your dream, Starscream,” the older man growled. “You flew for your country in the last war and came back unscathed. You need to start being realistic and get it through your thick skull that you can't fly forever.”

“I can for three more years!” The slender man raised his voice, getting up from the bed. “I knew coming home was a mistake,” he grumbled, slipping into his only pair of tennis shoes. He went to the closet and grabbed a bag, shoving a few sets of his clothes into it. Jeans, shorts, underwear, whatever he could grab.

“Starscream, where are you going?” Megatron asked, finally sitting up.

“Somewhere where people appreciate other's life goals,” the blonde said, stomping off to the bathroom to grab his pills.

Megatron growled out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

Outside, Starscream sat in his car, a sleek silver number only a little less flashy than that of his partner's, and called Ratchet.

“Starscream? Aren't you supposed to be working right now?” the older man asked, his voice tight with worry.

“Yes, but it got up to ninety-eight degrees yesterday and I passed out. They sent me home until Friday.” There was a long moment of silence as Starscream searched the glovebox for the pack of slims he kept in there for when he needed a quick stress-reliever. He lit one, inhaled deeply and blew out the smoke before he continued; “I got into an argument with Megatron, and I was wondering if I could stay with you until I have to go to my assessment.” Without waiting for a response, he said, “If not, I can just get a hotel room, it's not a big deal.”

“Star,” Ratchet said, sounding mildly irritated. The slender man flinched. “You know you can always stay at my place if you need to. Are you here already?”

“No,” the blonde said, starting his car. “I haven't even left home yet. I've just been sitting in my car. Should I pick up some beer?”

“If you passed out from dehydration, alcohol probably isn't the best thing for you right now. But I won't bitch at you if you do,” the voice on the phone said fondly. “Text me when you get here so I can unlock the door.”

* * *

  
Elsewhere, Gravescour sat in his kitchen. He finally had some time to himself, his mother absorbed in some early evening drama program. With her in the living room not twenty feet away, he couldn't cook or bake, so he just doodled on a sheet of printer paper. He was drawing the neighbor's cat that he could see lounging on their back patio through the window and was quite proud of what he had accomplished. When he heard the sound of scissors, he feared for his drawing and turned around.

“Turn back around,” his mother said, making a gesture with one of her pudgy fingers. “I'm going to tame that mop you call hair.” As she approached, the boy stood.

“No way,” Gravescour said, backing away. “I've been growing this out for five years. You're not cutting it.”

“I'm your mother,” she snarled, “I'll do as I damn well please.”

“It's two weeks until I'm eighteen. Can't you just let me make my own decisions at this point?”

She continued her approach. “You will never make your own decisions as long as you live under my roof. I need you looking cute,” she said, grabbing a fistful of the teen's t-shirt. Gravescour shoved her back, but she didn't relent. The blond grabbed a fistful of black hair and threw the boy to the ground. She sat on him, holding one of his flailing arms with her free hand. “Stop fighting, or I might accidentally cut you.”

“No! Get off me!” he shouted. He froze for a moment when the scissors bounced off the tile next to his ear. He started struggling again when the older woman drew the blades back.

“I don't know why you're being such a brat about a fucking haircut. You were so cute back when you had that little, fluffy blonde bowl cut. I wish you could go back to that.”

“What, so you could whore me out again?” Gravescour hissed.

“At least that way, you'd be bringing me some money instead of eating up all my resources,” the woman hissed, slamming the boy's wrist that she held into the floor. The teen cried out in pain. She made another attempt at snipping off the hair over his left ear.

Whimpering, the teen reached into his pocket, barely managing to pull out his phone with his crazy mother's weight on it. He held it up to her face and pressed the release for the pepper spray. It was more of an extended puff than the continual spray it would take for maximum efficiency, but even fitting a firing mechanism into something that small was a miracle in itself.

The blonde shrieked as the particles burned her eyes and skin, and blindly struck out with the scissors. The first strike missed, and the teen started scrambling out from under the wildly-swinging woman even as his own eyes and lips burned, having been caught in the blast radius. The third or fourth swing, Gravescour couldn't be bothered to count, connected and tore his jeans. The cut left behind was little more than a bleeding welt, but he knew his life depended on getting away from those scissors.

On his feet, he found that his eyes had swollen a bit and it was difficult to see. But he could make out colors and vague shapes well enough to tell where he was in his own home. He tore open the refrigerator door as his mother fell on her side, still screaming, but preoccupied with the pain in her face. The teen took out the milk and poured what remained of it over his face, not caring about the mess he made. He only wanted to clear up his eyes enough to run. He scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to rub the milk in. He blinked, then snatched his phone, only recognizing it for its blindingly pink case, off the floor. His mother lashed out at him again, but by the time she realized he'd been beside her, he'd already grabbed his backpack and run out the door.

Outside, he just ran, following the white of the sidewalk between the greens of grass. When his lungs started to hurt from inhaling the particulates earlier, he came to a stop. He leaned on his knees. He took out his phone again and wiped it off with his shirt. He texted who he'd hoped was Ratchet. _Van you come bet me?_

When the response took longer than Gravescour expected, he tried to squint at his phone, making sure he'd texted the right number. Sure enough, it was Ratchet's name at the top of the screen. He wanted to sit, but judging by the shapes that were starting to become a bit clearer, he was still in a residential neighborhood. So he walked. For ten minutes he followed between the green lines of grass until his phone dinged with _Where are you? What happened?_

Gravescour responded, _Mom webt nuts. Hard to test._ His wrist was still sore, too, but luckily it was his off hand. He walked to an intersection and took a picture of the sign, sending it to Ratchet with an _I am here._

_Stay put. I'll be there in ten minutes._

So he sat, not caring what he looked like, drying milk caking all over his clothes and his pants torn.

“Star, I need to go out for a few,” Ratchet said, hurriedly putting on a pair of runners.

“Why? What happened?”

“Another friend of mine needs a place to stay for the night, too, and he can't drive,” the older man explained.

“O-oh. Does that mean I can't stay here tonight?” Starscream asked, the fear in his voice obvious.

Ratchet stopped at the door, keys in hand. He frowned at the younger man. “Why would someone else coming over change that?”

Starscream looked away, hovering nervously a few yards away, a beer in hand. “W-well, if you're having a special friend over, I wouldn't want to ruin your evening.”

“It's not like that, Star,” Ratchet said with a shake of his head. He then frowned as he considered something. “Well, it is, but not yet.” He sounded as confused as Starscream looked. The white-haired man shook his head. “It's fine, Starscream. There's plenty of room for everyone. But I need to go. I'll be back soon. Hell, maybe with food.”

When he got to his car, Ratchet ran his fingers through his short hair and pulled up the image he was sent. He plugged the streets into his GPS and headed out.

When he saw the boy sitting in the grass, he feared the worst. He rolled down the passenger window. “Gravescour,” he called out. When the boy looked up, the older man cringed, knowing exactly what had happened. The puffy eyes and swollen lips screamed pepper spray.

“Ratchet!” the teen called out excitedly, getting to his feet. When he got to the car, his first attempt to grab the handle missed and he cursed. The older man was almost glad the boy couldn't see his expression.

“What happened?” Ratchet asked, cracking a small smile at the milk smell coming from the boy. He felt a strange surge of pride that the boy knew how to handle pepper spray with limited resources.

“Mom tried to cut my hair,” he said. “She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, and I basically had to blast her with pepper spray to keep her from stabbing me.”

“Primus Christ,” Ratchet breathed. “She'd fucking stab you over not wanting a haircut?”

“Dude, one time she stabbed me with a spoon when I told her that her third bowl of ice cream in a row wasn't going to help her lose weight. Yes, it bled.” Gravescour held his bag tightly, the older man assuming it was because of his blurred vision.

“She's a real piece of work,” Ratchet said, pulling back onto the road. “Have you had anything to eat recently?”

“I had eggs this morning.”

“Wanna grab some food on the way back to my place? I have another friend staying over tonight, so it wouldn't hurt to grab something.”

“Is it Miss Arcee?” Gravescour asked excitedly.

“No, it's... Star. The one I told you about.”

“Oh,” the teen said, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, but as long as we don't talk about Megatron, everything should be fine.” Ratchet chanced a glance at the boy. “Food?”

“McDorsal's, if you don't mind,” was the quiet answer. “I'll pay you back later.”

Ratchet scoffed. “Don't worry about it. It's McDorsal's. You can feed a small army there on fifty bucks.”

When they got back to Ratchet's place, Starscream could only blink at the teen's sorry state. “What happened to you?” he asked before his mouth caught up with his brain.

“Well, the TL;DR is my mom's a bitch.” One of Starscream's brows shot up in response. “Can I take a shower?” Gravescour asked, dropping his bag by the couch.

“Of course,” Ratchet said, “I don't want you making the place smell like old milk,” he teased. “Give me your clothes when you're done, and I'll throw them in the wash.”

“Uh,” the boy started, “I don't think I had time to grab a change.”

“Oh,” Ratchet said, a burger halfway to his mouth. “You can have one of my shirts, but I think my pants will be too big for you.”

“It's fine,” the teen said. “As long as he doesn't mind me walking around in a t-shirt and briefs, I'm cool with that.”

“Ah- um-” Starscream awkwardly stammered around a couple of fries the older man had forced on him. “I have a pair of shorts you can borrow?”

Starscream shrank back as the teen looked him up and down. He knew the younger was assessing him to see if they wore a similar size, but after the week he'd had, he wasn't comfortable being scrutinized. The teen smiled just a bit.

“Sure, if you're alright with them possibly getting stretched out. You're thinner than I am. Never thought I'd see the day I met an adult man skinnier than me.”

Starscream blushed. He couldn't tell if he was being insulted or if the teen saw it as some kind of competition. “It's fine,” he managed after a moment and got up to find his own bag to rummage through. “They're from before I lost weight, anyway, so they might be big on you.”

“Big pants are comfy,” Gravescour said cheerfully as he took them. Ratchet went to his room to grab a spare shirt for the boy and saw him off to the shower with a fresh towel.

Once the door was shut, Starscream picked up his third beer and spoke; “He's awfully cheerful for someone who's mom just attacked him.”

“He looks that way, but he's actually in a really bad mood,” Ratchet said around a mouthful of food. He washed it down with a new beer.

“How can you tell?”

“Eh,” Ratchet groused, “He closes his eyes when he smiles to hide the other emotions in his eyes.”

“Huh. I'll have to try that.”

“You already do it, too!”

“I do?”

“Yeah. You two have so damn much in common, I wouldn't be surprised if y'all wound up coming over here for slumber parties.”

Starscream choked on his drink. Ratchet laughed. The older man munched on some fries while Starscream gave a dreamy sigh.

“What?” the man asked around a mouthful.

“You love him, don't you?”

Ratchet took his turn to choke. He sipped his beer, then set the can on the coffee table. He hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted. “But that's not happening right now.”

“Why not?”

“He's too young and vulnerable right now. I just can't push something like a relationship on him when he's dealing with his shitty circumstances.”

Starscream wrapped his arm around one leg. “You're such a gentleman,” Starscream muttered with a little chuckle. “Why didn't I wind up with you instead?”

“Because I was in school to become a doctor when Megatron was busy deceiving you.”

“He didn't deceive me,” the younger blonde defended.

“Is this the life you wanted?” Ratchet asked.

Starscream opened his mouth, about to say something, but the bathroom door cracked open then.

“Um, Ratchet?”

“What's wrong, Gravescour?”

That name sounded familiar to Starscream, for some reason. He'd heard it recently, but couldn't remember where.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?”

“What do you need that for? Are you okay?” the older man asked as he got up.

“My mom got me with the scissors earlier and-”

“Holy shit, scissors?!” Ratchet interrupted. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“It's just a scratch, oh my god. I just don't want it to bleed if I'm gonna wear someone else's clothes!”

Starscream chuckled as Ratchet started fussing over the boy. He felt like a third wheel, seeing the way his friend looked at the teen. He sighed softly, and considered leaving. Maybe after he finished his beer. The kid could have his shorts.

Turned out he looked damn good in them, Starscream found out when the two finally emerged from the bathroom. The bandage on his thigh peered out from under the off-pink shorts, one of Ratchet's shirts just a little too big for the boy.

“You smoke?” Gravescour asked the blonde as he dumped his knife and a handful of bobby-pins on the table.

“Eat first,” Ratchet groused. “You're the one who wanted McDorsal's.”

Gravescour grinned and sat down next to the older man, rifling through one of the bags until he found a box of chicken nuggets and dug in.

“I do, sometimes,” Starscream admitted. “If- if you want company while you smoke, I'll go outside with you after you eat.”

“Sure thing,” the teen said, nodding as he stuffed another nugget in his mouth.

Ratchet wasn't sure he liked the idea of the two going off outside by themselves. He was worried that they might somehow get on the topic of Megatron, and the whole evening would combust. “I'll go, too,” Ratchet said. “I think this would count as a social smoke.”

The three went out back to sit on the patio in the early evening light, the adults trying to enjoy their beers while the teen sipped on a soda.

“Is it just me, or does this feel hella awkward for anyone else?” Gravescour asked. The older men stiffened. “Y'all are being so... I dunno. Hush-hush about something, and it's kinda sus,” the teen said.

“I'm sorry,” Starscream immediately apologized. “I'll go.”

“Why?” Gravescour asked, raising a brow.

“I don't want to intrude on your, uh, special evening.”

“Dude, I'm seventeen and was recently borderline raped by some asshole that picked me up at a bar. There aren't going to be any 'special evenings' for me for a while,” Gravescour said.

“Oh,” Starscream said, sitting back down. His eyes then widened. “You're only seventeen?!” he nearly shrieked.

“Say it loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear,” Ratchet grumbled.

Gravescour laughed. “Well, how old are you? You don't look that much older than me.”

“I'm thirty-god-damn-five,” Starscream said with a huff.

“Oh, wow. You look a lot younger,” the teen marveled.

“Thanks, I think,” Starscream muttered.

“So, I'm sleeping on the couch tonight since he was here first, right?” Gravescour asked, looking at Ratchet. Both older men sputtered. “It's cool. Honestly, I should probably just go home and hide in my room. Hell, maybe she won't kill me if I clean up the mess in the kitchen.” He stood, pinching his cigarette out.

“No, no, I'll go. I can afford a hotel room. It's no big deal,” Starscream said, also standing.

“No, you don't get to see Ratchet often, do you? I don't work so I can pretty much see him whenever.”

“Don't worry, I'll-”

“Oh, will you both cut it out?” Ratchet complained. “I want you both here, so stop it with this- whatever the hell this is. I care about you both and we'll figure out the bed situation. Hell, I can take the couch.”

“Absolutely not!” both younger men said.

Ratchet huffed out a laugh of disbelief.

“We can share the guest bed if we sleep head to toe,” Gravescour said.

“Head to toe?” Starscream asked, hand on his chest.

“Yeah, head to toe,” Gravescour repeated. “It's not weird that way.”

“I think it's weirder that way, honestly,” Ratchet said.

“Dude,” the teen complained. “We found a solution and you ruined it!”

“Sleep head to toe if you want!” the older man said defensively before dissolving into laughter. “As long as you both quit threatening to leave.”

They spent the rest of the evening lounging in the living room, making awkward small talk and laughing over bad infomercials. When it came time to sleep, Starscream having had enough to drink to grow drowsy, he headed off to the bedroom.

Gravescour instantly moved closer to the older man as soon as they were alone.

“You okay?” the older man asked, putting an arm around his shoulders. “You seem a little tense.”

“It's a little awkward to have Megatron's boyfriend here, knowing what I've done, but I'm far happier here than I would be anywhere else.”

“I thought you weren't going to blame yourself for that?”

“I'm not, but I can still feel bad about it. It's like,” and he laid his head on Ratchet's shoulder, “If you buy the last loaf of bread at the grocery store. You've gotta eat, right? But if a single mom of five comes along after you bought it, and she only has enough money for bread and peanut butter, you can feel bad about the situation without feeling like it's your fault, right?”

“I get what you're saying, but I think it's a little different. It's a bad situation for everyone involved. We will need to sit down and have a chat about it eventually, but now isn't a good time.”

“I wish I could sleep with you tonight.”

“Yeah, but Starscream doesn't know you as well as Arcee does, so I'm not exactly comfortable with that tonight.”

“I get it,” the teen said. He looked up at Ratchet. “I can see fine now, but my eyes still hurt a little. I think I'm gonna turn in.”

“Alright,” Ratchet said, pressing a kiss to the teen's forehead. “I'm gonna stay up and watch garbage infomercials for a while.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

Gravescour left his knife on the coffee table as he headed off to the guest room, so Ratchet assumed the boy felt safe sharing a space with Starscream.

In the spare room, Starscream stiffened when the teen approached the bed, his hushed crying suddenly going silent.

“Starscream?” Gravescour whispered.

“Oh, sorry, was I snoring?” the older man asked, faking drowsiness.

“You were crying,” the raven-haired teen said, sitting behind the prone blonde.

“No I wasn't!” Starscream whispered harshly.

“It's okay to cry, you know,” the younger continued, ignoring Starscream's outburst. “It took me a while to figure that one out, too, so don't worry.” He laid down, wrapping an arm around the other. “I don't know exactly what you're going through, but I know enough to know that no one would blame you for crying.”

Starscream shook with the effort of holding back the tears, ashamed of being comforted by someone half his age.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I'm around.”

* * *

Ratchet stretched with a groan when he woke up the next morning. He checked his phone for messages and found none. He found himself oddly happy, both of the people he wanted to protect most in the world were both under his roof. Unless, and his expression soured, one of them had decided to run away while he slept. That thought got him up, and he dressed quickly. He fixed his hair in the vanity mirror, not more than running a comb through it to make sure it wasn't sticking out at odd angles, before heading down the hall to check on the younger men.

The door to the spare room was cracked slightly, so he pushed it open a bit more. The sight that greeted the man made him smile softly. Gravescour had his arms wrapped around Starscream's thinner body, the older man seemingly accepting the embrace. He chuckled when he noticed the teen was a hair taller than his friend, and let the emotions he'd spent years processing come unbidden. In that moment, the only one awake, he could admit that he was jealous of Starscream having the raven-haired boy's arms around him, slim face buried in blindingly light hair. But more than that, he was happy. Happy for Starscream accepting comfort, what little it was. Happy that the two got on well enough to spoon on the first night they met, that Gravescour didn't feel threatened by Megatron's boyfriend. Anger came at the thought of the brunette, and Ratchet let that wash over him too, deciding he'd use it to make positive changes rather than let it fuel destructive urges. Sadness was the factor that moved him, taking in how thin both men were, the sheets having been kicked off in the middle of the night. Gravescour at least had some slender muscle, bruised though it was, but Starscream's gaunt stomach haunted Ratchet as he quietly walked to the kitchen. He opened his phone and pulled up a food delivery app, deciding to order more than they'd possibly need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the mixup on the chapters before! I am a dumb! -JOLT


	11. Chapter 11

As they broke for lunch on the first full day without Starscream as their leader, Riot and Bumblebee took their trays to sit with Leveler. However, they found the seats around the woman occupied. Their other squadmates had surrounded the bulky woman, finding her much more approachable than Starscream. For some reason, Riot found himself angry at that fact. It wasn't that he didn't like Leveler, quite the opposite. He thought she was the nicest superior officer he'd come across so far. But the lack of loyalty shown to Starscream bothered him.

Apparently it made Bumblebee and Bluestreak uncomfortable as well, since the two young men followed him when he sat elsewhere. Somehow, their drill instructor fainting had become a bonding experience for the three. Bluestreak spent meals with the blondes after that, met Knock Out the previous evening while they all ignored gossip about Starscream.

After lunch, training resumed on the obstacle course. Riot figured, as they finished a round of timed team climbs, that one of the reasons the squad liked her better was that she devoted far less time to stretching than Starscream had. A snort found its way out of him as he thought that he couldn't really blame her, what with her massive muscles and noticeable gut probably making it difficult. She was also kind, gently correcting all manner of things from dress to posture. But, the white-haired teen couldn't help but think, it wasn't her place as a drill sergeant to be so kind. When they were given a breather before breaking for dinner, Riot trotted up to Leveler, confused friends in tow.

“Ma'am?” he asked.

“Yeah, hun?”

“I- um- will Lieutenant Starscream come back?” he quickly added; “Not- not that I don't like having you in charge of us, or anything! I-”

She laughed, full and hearty, cutting him off. “I'm not offended,” she said with a shake of her head. “In fact, I'm happy to see that the three of you want him back.” She sighed, watching the other recruits heading back toward the mess. “Keep this under your hats, but.” She looked off in the distance as she spoke, “Starscream usually has a hard time making connections with new recruits, so it warms my heart to see that you three have already made a connection with him.” She put a massive paw on the young man's head, chuckling at the startled noise he made. “You three were the ones that took control of the situation when he fainted, weren't you?”

“That was all R-R-Riot,” Bumblebee managed, smiling.

“Was it now?” Leveler asked. “You know, that's going to be something that your superiors look at when they consider you for promotions.”

Riot turned his gaze toward the ground, cheeks dusting with red.

“I'll keep you updated on Starscream's return status, I promise, young men. But you're stuck with me for the rest of the week,” she teased. “Let's hope he can come back by Monday.”

All three young men nodded in agreement as the group walked to dinner.  
  


* * *

  
Ratchet spent most of Tuesday, his usual weekday off, with his friends. They lounged around the house most of the day, doing next to nothing. Gravescour read a book he pulled from his bag for a while before haranguing Ratchet into downloading some phone game he was into. Starscream joined in.

The slender men watched an uncomfortable Ratchet wipe down his bike and check its fluids. They had pizza for dinner, and put on another movie Arcee had suggested. Not having received even a text from Megatron the whole day, Starscream decided he wanted to turn in early. The others understood that to mean mope, but let him go to the guest room anyway. Ratchet decided to shower, leaving the teen in control of the remote.

While drying off in his bedroom, having snuck down the hall while Gravescour was occupied by something on the screen, there came a knock at Ratchet's door. The teen pushed the door open a bit to find the older man in only a towel, barely covered as he'd been using it to dry. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a long moment, a tense awkwardness building.

Ratchet recovered first, wrapping the towel around himself to afford himself some form of modesty. But the teen still stared, slack-jawed. Covered from just below his nipples to mid-thigh, the older man feared the thoughts running through the other's mind. The scarring on his right leg mostly visible for the boy's scrutiny.

“O-oh!” Gravescour gasped after a long moment. He stood up straight and waved his hands before him in a nervous little gesture. “Sorry! Sorry!” he said, and turned to leave pulling the door nearly shut.

“Gravescour, wait,” Ratchet said, fighting back a sigh.

“Y-yes?” Gravescour asked through the door.

“Please come back in.” The teen did, his eyes cast to the floor. Before his nerves got hold of him, Ratchet continued; “It's alright to look.”

Pale eyes eventually lifted, trailing up the legs, catching the scars before wandering over his chest and neck. The older man could feel the look like a physical thing, and struggled to make eye contact when it was offered.

“You'd see it eventually, right?” His nerves made his voice weak.

Gravescour made a sound in his throat, but no actual words as he shut the door behind him. He didn't move closer just yet, but was poised to.

“I wasn't planning on having this conversation until much closer to a time when we were planning on being intimate but, since you've seen, I may as well spill.” He sat on the bed, sighing as the towel rode up to reveal even more of the twisted scarring.

“Ah, can I...?”

“Yes, yes, come take a good look,” Ratchet said, sounding tired. He blinked when the teen knelt before him, shyly lifting spindly fingers to touch the older man's knee, far below the bulk of the scarring. “As you can see,” he started, heart pounding, “my right leg is pretty fucked up.”

“You never limp,” the teen said.

“Well, the bone healed exactly how it was supposed to, and I worked hard to build the muscle back so I could stay in the Air Force for a few more years,” Ratchet explained. “Even after all these years, there's still some scar tissue in there that causes me a little pain if I use it too much, but it's nothing some OTC painkillers can't handle.”

Gravescour hummed in response, growing bold enough to touch a twist of skin that fed into a long, deep valley of a scar. He traced it all the way up to the towel. “Can you feel that?” the teen whispered as if speaking at a normal volume would have the other running him off.

“No,” Ratchet said, a sad smile on his face as he watched curious fingers explore. He knew he should put a stop to the touching, a familiar feeling stirring in his groin, but he wanted to explore the delicate intimacy that was growing between them in the moment. “Oh,” he gasped when slender fingers made their way to the inside of his thigh, fighting against the natural urge to spread his legs, “That I can feel.”

The teen looked up then, and Ratchet offered a smile, hoping it would assuage any guilty or otherwise negative feelings the boy had.

“Do you want to hear the story?” he asked.

“If you're comfortable telling me,” was the response.

Ratchet felt a bit uneasy, not being able to read the boy's feelings in his short responses, his reverent touch seemed a bit out of character for the hyperactive teen. But, he trudged on; “Our squad was on the way to replace some fallen airmen at a post that had recently been recaptured. Our plane was shot down.” He took a deep breath, willing himself to keep his eyes open, to not get lost in the memory. Gravescour pressed his body closer, caressing the back of a hairless calf. Ratchet didn't have the words to express how much he appreciated the grounding touch, so he continued. “The survivors were Arcee, Megatron, Optimus, Wheeljack, Bulkhead, and myself. My leg was jacked. I thought for sure I was going to lose it. Arcee had a badly broken arm and Jackie was unconscious.” Ratchet gave an irritated sigh. “Megatron was preying on Optimus at that time, but... But at least he protected my best friend with his own body. They were unharmed, thank Primus. Shaken up, but not physically damaged.

“Cliffjumper, the pilot, and the co-pilot didn't make it. A-along with a few of the others that were just going as ground replacements. Arcee was inconsolable. We all thought those two were gonna get married when we got home, but...” Ratchet snapped back to himself when he felt the teen's teeth on his knee. Just a little love nip, but it brought him back to the moment.

“You don't have to continue, if you don't want,” he offered.

“I'm alright,” the older man answered, happy for the out. He brushed Gravescour's hair back out of his face as he continued; “It was chaos at first. Arcee tried to storm out with her arm twisted all weird, armed with only a handgun. Megatron held her back while Optimus and Bulkhead moved me. I tied a tourniquet around my thigh, thinking the leg was a loss, but I could still help the others as long as I didn't lose too much blood.

“It didn't bleed as much as I expected, either, since something cauterized it, I guess. When it started to ooze again later, I had Optimus pour some gunpowder on it and light it up.

“Anyway, uh, Arcee and Megatron yelling at each other didn't help us conceal our position, especially not when Optimus got involved. So, enemy soldiers found us. That's why... that's why Megatron has all those bullet hole scars. That dumbass always had to be at the front of the action.” He shook his head. “Arcee was like that, too. It was even worse when she didn't have time to properly grieve.

“She eventually let me patch up her arm. It was kinda funny,” he said, lifting a hand to awkwardly scratch his own head, “Megatron let her bite his arm to keep her from screaming when I set the break. But, um, to make a long story short, it was three long days that the others had to hold our position while I was half-useless. My foot was turning blue by the time we were lifted out of there. I couldn't move my toes, so I thought for sure it was done for.” He then wiggled his toes, trying not to laugh at the way Gravescour's frown instantly turned into a little smile. “But, ya know, I'm a stubborn old fart, so I recovered functionality, at least.” Ratchet reached out to touch dark locks, threading his fingers in the hair. He found himself trembling and sighed.

Gravescour gave a little cooing noise, leaning into the touch. He pressed firmly with his fingers as he felt up the older man's thigh, earning a soft noise from the older man. The teen dug his fingers in hard enough that he could feel it in the muscle, but not enough to hurt. Ratchet was torn between moaning and letting out a sob. The teen pressed another kiss to his knee and looked up. “I'm glad you're here,” was all he said.

Ratchet cracked a grin, feeling his face warm with a blush. He'd expected a “thank you” or a “sorry”, but the surprising statement lifted a bit of the worry that made his chest feel like someone had poured cement down his throat. He could breathe again. Until the teen started massaging him, his caress growing more and more intimate with every press of slender fingers. Before he could stop himself, Ratchet bucked his hips.

Trying to distract the older man from the rubbing, Gravescour asked; “Is that why your legs are hairless?”

Ratchet shifted his knees apart a few inches, unable to fight that urge any longer. The teen's fingers moved higher, threatening to dip under the edge of the towel. “I- uh- kinda,” the white-haired man managed. “I shave them because I can't stand having one mostly hairless and the other hairy as hell.” He heaved out an embarrassed sigh at the admission. He opened his mouth to say something, to put a stop to the stimulation that had the towel tented as the teen's fingers slipped under it for a second, but could only groan when Gravescour took his hands away. The teen got to his feet, reaching into his own shorts to try to hide his erection in his waistband. Ratchet simply watched in awe as the youth knelt over him, one knee between his spread legs, hands on his shoulders.

“Your body is beautiful, Ratchet,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss the older man's lightly-stubbled cheek, then his neck, then ear. The older man shuddered, bringing shaking hands up to the teen's sides. He wasn't sure if he was going to hold him there or pull him closer, but he needed to touch. “If anyone says otherwise, I will cut them.”

Ratchet laughed so hard he fell back, bringing the teen down with him. Ratchet was sure Gravescour could feel his towel-clad erection digging into his thigh, but the growing sexual tension evaporated as they chuckled together, simply enjoying the contact. “Don't cut people,” Ratchet managed after a long moment.

“I'll try, but no promises,” was the response.

“Oh, I wish I could hold you tonight, but I have to work tomorrow,” the older man said, sitting up. Gravescour slid off of him. “Not to mention I need a few minutes alone,” he trailed off nervously.

Gravescour grinned something devious. “Have fun,” the teen cooed, leaning up to steal a kiss before scooting out the door, closing it quietly behind himself.

Ratchet gave a heavy sigh before reaching under the towel to take care of the need the teen inspired in him.  
  


* * *

  
Wednesday morning, Ratchet had to go to work. He was terrified of leaving Gravescour, who didn't want to go home because he feared being met by cops or another beating, alone with Starscream. But he couldn't take a day off again so soon, so he headed out and simply hoped for the best, leaving the younger men a note that said they could get on his computer and order food if they wanted.

Though they found the note, Gravescour made breakfast. Starscream was impressed by the fluffiness of the pancakes. They wound up playing CreCo for most of the day, the teen helping the older man take out battle stations so he could start earning some digital coins. They wound up running into Optimus and Arcee, the older two looking quite shocked to see Gravescour and Starscream together. The teen checked the time on his phone and was surprised to see that school had indeed let out twenty minutes prior. He left the adults to talk, running off to grab a couple of snocones. Since he'd been told by more than one person that he had a lot in common with Starscream, he grabbed two of his favorite flavor, assuming the other would like it. When he returned, the adults held their tongues, but he'd expected that. He handed a cone off to a very confused platinum blonde and said, “If you don't like it, I'll eat it and get you a different flavor.”

The older man found himself blushing the slightest bit. “N-no, I like cherry. Thank you,” Starscream muttered.

Arcee and Optimus beamed. “Ya know,” the older woman started, “I bet you'd make a good guidance counselor.”

“I agree,” Optimus interjected before the teen could respond. “You are a very kind and understanding young man.”

The teen groaned miserably, earning himself a chuckle from the bluenettes. “I'm only nice to people I care about,” he mumbled.

“You'll come to care about the students you assist,” Arcee said, reaching out to ruffle the black locks. “Trust me, I know.”

“Arcee,” Optimus said to get her attention, showing her his phone. “The battle station went down already. We should go get it back.”

“Oh my god,” Gravescour said, again giving another miserable groan. “You guys play CreCo?”

“Yes,” Optimus said, raising a brow. “I quite enjoy it. It encourages me to keep up with my jogging when I don't particularly feel like it.”

After pouting for a moment, Gravescour said, “Fair enough.”

“Well, we're gonna go get that battle station back,” Arcee said, turning. “You boys take care now!”

“Boys,” Starscream mumbled under his breath, licking the delicious syrup from his fingers where the paper cone had leaked.

Back at Ratchet's place, Starscream decided to make lunch. Not wanting to be outdone in the domestic field, he made some very visually appealing sandwiches, cutting them into triangles. After they ate, he wrapped what was left up to stick in the refrigerator for Ratchet. Finding a stack of the teen's pancakes wrapped much in the same way, he chuckled, thinking Ratchet's comparison of them may not have been that far off. He joined Gravescour in the living room for a chat about CreCo. The teen kept staring at him, though, making him feel uneasy.

“Starscream, we need to talk.”

“What did I do?” he immediately asked, mentally kicking himself for the reaction.

“It's nothing you did. It's something I did,” the younger man explained. “You, uh, you know I was a prostitute, right?”

“Oh- uh- n-no. No, I did not,” Starscream stammered, hoping the conversation wasn't going where he thought it was. Gravescour was cute, he could admit, but he was more into muscles than what the teen had. “But, uh, you're only seventeen?” he asked nervously.

“Yeah, but it sells. Sold since I was twelve.”

“Twelve,” Starscream mouthed more than spoke.

Gravescour shrugged. “It sucked sometimes, but if I could get out of the house, I never went hungry.” He sat up straight. “Anyway, I need to get to the point.” He took a deep breath. “Your boyfriend is a cheating ho.”

“Excuse me?” Starscream said, his brows raised and his hand to his chest.

“He hired me multiple times.”

“I- I'm sure you have him confused with someone else,” Starscream said in disbelief, an awkward smile spread across his lips, teeth bared.

“Starscream, I don't think there are many six-and-a-half-foot tall brunettes with scars on their face named 'Megatron',” the raven-haired boy said, straight-faced.

Starscream sputtered, his face growing hot, his chest numb. Suddenly possessed by rage, the older man reared back and slapped the teen across the face. Gravescour clenched his teeth, his face turned away as the blonde jumped to his feet. “How could you do something like that?!” Starscream shrieked.

“I didn't know he was in a relationship!” Gravescour raised his voice in return.

When the boy stood, Starscream froze. The unshed tears welling in those icy eyes had his knees weak. The selling handprint shape on the too-pale cheek felt like a stab to his own heart.

“I just wanted you to know so you could get something better out of your life!”

Those words hurt more than possibly any other he'd heard, aside from Megatron's order to retire. He watched in stunned silence as the teen stormed off to Ratchet's room and slammed the door shut behind himself. The lock clicking into place was audible, even over the sound of their own hearts pounding.

A little over half an hour later, Ratchet came through the door. He gave a relieved sigh and loosened his tie. Slipping off his dress shoes beside the door with all the other shoes gathered there, his relief quickly evaporated. Starscream sat up on the couch, a bottle of something certainly alcoholic in his hand. “What happened?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves. Red brows rose dramatically when Starscream put the bottle to his lips and chugged a good portion in lieu of answering.

Eventually, the younger man wiped his mouth and looked at the white-haired man, dried tear tracks on his cheeks. “I fucked up,” he said.

“How?” Ratchet asked, crossing his arms.

“Gravescour told me Megatron paid him for sex and I losht it. I slapped him,” the slender man said, nodding sadly to himself.

Ratchet groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Damnit Star,” he grumbled, “You know he's abused at home.”

“I know! But I didn't even think about that until after I hit him.”

“Where is he?”

“He'sh in your room. The door's locked. I tried to apologize, but I couldn't get in.”

“That's probably a good thing. It would've been worse if you forced an apology on him,” Ratchet said, snatching the bottle from the younger man. He made a face at the way Starscream flinched, but knew he had to be firm. “I told him to wait to tell you that. I wanted to be here just in case you had that kind of reaction,” he said, setting the bottle on the TV stand so the drunk on the couch would have to at least make an effort to get his booze back.

“You knew?!”

“Of course I did. He trusts me enough to tell me these things,” the white-haired man said, his hands on his hips. “We were planning on telling you. Together.”

“I should have known,” Starscream mumbled, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“You know now,” Ratchet said trying to ease up the harsh tone of his voice, “And you can finally stop defending that asshole.”

“I don't know if I can,” the blonde grumbled miserably. He stood, wobbled when he tried to take a step and just sat back down. “I'll leave when I sober up.”

“No!” came the cry from the hallway, making both men turn to look. Gravescour stood there, a hand bracing himself on the wall, looking ready to bolt at any second. Ratchet gave a little “oh” at the red splotch on the teen's cheek. “You'll just go back to that asshole if you leave,” the teen said, taking a few cautious steps toward them. “Yeah, I'm mad at you right now, but not enough to ask you to leave.” Clearly shaking, he walked up to Starscream and pulled the slimmer body into a rough hug.

“I'm sorry!” the older of the two cried, returning the hug.

“I'll forgive you eventually, just let me be mad for a little bit.”

Ratchet found himself smiling despite the stress he was under, worried about both the men before him.

Gravescour pulled back and stood by awkwardly for a moment before retreating to Ratchet's bedroom. He left the door open that time.

“I'm gonna go talk to him,” Ratchet said. As he turned to head down the hall, Starscream spoke.

“Wait a minute. Please?”

“What is it, Star?”

“You should slap me.”

“I should what now?” the older man asked, his brows meeting his hairline.

“I hit him for something that wasn't his fault, so it's only fair.”

Ratchet gave a heavy sigh that turned into a groan. He stared at the man who sat on the couch with his legs curled up to his chest with a lopsided frown on his face. “Alright, first off, I'm not gonna hit you. Second, you should be offering that to him, not me. I'm not the one you slapped.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “And I don't think he will, anyway. He knows what it's like, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to make anyone else feel that way. Besides, he cares about you. You two already have a bond. You've both been abused by the same asshole. He can see that, and wants it to stop.” Starscream simply looked away. “Just think about what you did and what you can do moving forward. I need to check on Gravescour.”

Ratchet found the teen curled up on his bed when he entered the room. The younger man sat up, frowning.

“I'm sorry,” he said before the other could say anything.

“As much as I want to say it's okay,” Ratchet trailed off with a sigh. “How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting next to the teen.

“Happy you're home,” Gravescour said, scooting closer to the man to bury his face in his back.

The white-haired man couldn't help his smile. “You were supposed to wait for me to be here to tell him about that.”

“You know me,” Gravescour said, wrapping his arms around the bigger man's middle. “I do things myself when I can.”

Ratchet brought a hand up to lovingly stroke the slim limb. “I trust Starscream, but I had the feeling he'd react like that. That's why I wanted to be there.”

“It was just a slap. I'm fine,” the teen insisted.

“Are you?” Ratchet asked, turning in the embrace so he could return the gesture. They wound up laying with their heads toward the foot of the bed, the younger man clinging.

“Now that you're here, yeah.”

“You need to stop being so cute for the next couple weeks,” Ratchet fired back.

“Why?” Gravescour teased, “Afraid you're going to give in to my charms?”

“Not only that,” Ratchet started, turning on his side so he could stroke the boy's uninjured check, “But I want to just be able to hold you. I want to kiss you. Sometimes you're so damn mature that I forget how young you are.”

“Just kiss me, then. It's only a kiss.”

“The door is open.”

“He's drunk.”

Unable to resist that logic, Ratchet chuckled softly before pressing their lips together. Their kiss deepened, petting each other's hair for a minute before Gravescour helped Ratchet out of his tie. When clever little fingers found the buttons of his shirt, the older man had to pull back.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, drawing away. “No matter how drunk Starscream is, you're not taking my clothes off,” he chastised, chuckling at the teen's pout. “Since we're all relatively okay, I'm going to order dinner. When we eat, we'll talk this out.”

That evening, the three had a long, drawn out talk over dinner. They made sure everything was on the table and had been talked through before bed.

Friday, Gravescour went with Starscream to his assessment, waited in the waiting room for him since Ratchet couldn't be there. Given a clean bill of health, the platinum blonde was elated to be able to go back to work. He spent the rest of the day playing CreCo with the teen, then said his goodbyes to him and Ratchet that evening, and prepared to head back to the base as soon as he could.

On the drive there, Starscream's eyes widened as he remembered where he'd heard the name “Gravescour” before. “Oh shit,” he said aloud to himself, “I slapped the hot new recruit's best friend...”  
  


* * *

  
Monday morning, Starscream took command of the squad again. He could feel the air of disappointment coming from the recruits, save for Riot, Bumblebee, and Bluestreak. The three were a bit refreshing, he thought as they were moving on to learning their weaponry. He couldn't blame the squad for not having faith in him after he fainted like he had, but he was extremely irritated to find that they had been spoiled by Leveler. At least Riot had been happy to see him, those red eyes lighting up like a schoolboy seeing his crush. That was truly invigorating, though he couldn't show his elation in front of the teen. Or anyone else, for that matter. He was also grateful for him taking control of the situation when it was needed. Starscream decided, trying and failing to hide his smile as he watched his squad disassemble and reassemble rifles.

They had spent the morning after their run learning the guns inside and out in an air-conditioned room, but after lunch it was time to practice them in the heat. They'd move on to drills with them shortly, but Starscream wanted the kids to form the same bonds with their guns that they'd already formed with their beds. How better than to get to know them intimately?

Starscream noticed Riot would falter on a specific point of reassembly. Every time. He always found the correct setup eventually, but that one or two second delay could mean the difference between life and death in a combat situation. So the blonde slinked up behind the white-haired teen. He put his hands over Riot's, delighting in the way he gasped. “Like this,” he said, his instructor voice still firmly in place as he guided the boy's hands with his own. They repeated the action again and again until the younger man was doing it on his own without faltering or hesitation. “Much better,” he said. When he looked up, many of the other new recruits were simply staring at the almost-intimate way the two men were standing. “Get back to it unless you want to end up in the same position!” he barked.

They all hurriedly complied, though one recruit dropped a part of his gun and got an earful. Riot, to his credit, ignored the way his pulse pounded in his ears and his pants grew tight, simply doing as told. Though his mind raced. Especially when Starscream leaned in to whisper; “Come to my office after supper.”

The young blonde quivered with nervous energy as he shifted from foot to foot outside the office with the closed door. He wasn't sure if he should knock or not. After standing there for a full minute, he finally built up the courage, only to flinch away when Starscream barked out, “Yes, what?”

“Y-you asked me to-” and the door was yanked open, letting Riot see the tall, slender man grinning down at him. “-come?”

“Indeed, I did,” Starscream said, stepping away to welcome the teen inside. He shut the door behind them. “Come in. Get comfortable,” he continued, kicking a rolling chair over to Riot. The teen stopped its rolling and nervously sat. “Why do you look so nervous?” he teased, a fine brow raised. “I asked you to come to thank you.” Starscream sat in his own chair and crossed his legs.

“Th-thank...?” Riot trailed off, ringing his hands.

“Of course. You took control after my episode with dehydration last week. You could very well have saved my life.”

“Oh, I don't think- Well, I'm sure someone else would have stepped up if I hadn't!”

“You should be glad you did. You already have a commendation on your record that most don't receive this early. They've also made a note of your potential leadership abilities,” Starscream practically cooed. “Something like that will allow you to advance in the ranks if you plan on being a career military man.”

“I don't know what to say,” Riot admitted.

“And so humble, too,” the older man teased, enjoying the way the teen's face reddened. “Well, I brought you in here to thank you, so what would you like?”

“Sir?”

“A day off, an hour with your phone, a blowjob?”

“What was that last one?” Riot asked, incredulous. He thought he might be sweating.

“You heard me, crewman,” Starscream said, looking down his nose at the younger man.

Riot shivered, imagining the haughty man on his knees before him, caressing that silky looking hair as he lathed his cock with attention. “Is- is that a serious offer?” Riot looked up through his bangs.

“Hop up on my desk,” the older man ordered as he slid his chair over to lock the office door. The click jumped Riot to attention, both physically and metaphorically, and he hopped out of his chair and quickly moved to the desk. “Up,” Starscream commanded.

Riot jumped up, unsure of where to look. His eyes darted around, unable to settle on any one thing until Starscream sat in his chair before him.

“Well? Am I supposed to suck on your zipper?” Starscream chuckled at the hasty way the younger man fumbled for his zip. He pulled himself from his trousers and gave a stroke, then turned his gaze away once more. Excited though he was to have his gorgeous commanding officer offer to suck his dick, he was also terrified of the other's reaction to the barely male-average size. “My, you have a very visually pleasing penis, crewman,” Starscream teased, running his fingernail along the vein across the bottom of the eager organ. He smirked when it jumped under his feather-light touch. “Are you sure this is what you want? I offered you a full day off. You could take it at any point in your training, outside of the actual rifle training. When you learn to shoot,” the older man clarified, his breath teasing the head of his subordinate's throbbing prick as he spoke.

“Yes sir,” Riot somehow managed, swallowing the lump that developed in his throat.

“Very well,” the older blonde cooed, scooting his chair forward. He took the stiff length in two fingers and a thumb, holding it still as he lowered his head.

Riot gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles were white when lips slipped over the head. Starscream bobbed his head, taking a little more with each pass, teasing every hill and valley of sensitive skin with his talented tongue. Riot panted, watching in awe as Starscream's cheeks hollowed when he sucked particularly hard, looking almost devious, as if he were trying to wring cries from the boy. Riot bit his lip and fought off a groan, trying not to look away when the older man made eye contact. He was thoroughly embarrassed by how quickly his orgasm was building at the sight. He felt absolutely helpless under Starscream's ministrations. He wanted to touch the nearly silver locks, brush the red bang out of his face, but he didn't dare touch. Didn't dare do more than quiver and fight to keep the moans in his throat.

“S-sir, I- I'm gonna-”

And Starscream's pleased groan tipped him over. Riot didn't dare close his eyes as he watched the older man keep him in his throat as he pulsed, red eyes, half-lidded staring up at him. The platinum blonde sucked up every last drop, flicking the head with his tongue just to hear the sounds the overstimulated teen would make. When Starscream finally pulled back, Riot's already-softening prick slipping from his lips, the teen gave a satisfied groan. The older man wiped his mouth daintily, checking for any suspicious fluids.

“You look satisfied,” he teased.

“Y-yes, sir! Uh, thank you?”

Starscream huffed out a chuckle, pushing his chair back so the teen could pack himself away. “No need to thank me, crewman. Go get showered and get some rest. You're going to need it when we start running formations with rifles.”

“Yes, sir,” Riot said, hopping down from the tall desk. He hesitated for a moment at the door. “I'm glad you're back. Have a good night, sir.”

“You too.”

The door shut behind the boy, Starscream relocked it and decided to take care of the urges having a dick in his mouth inspired in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now everything is back in order! Sorry again. I have a big dumb. -JOLT


	12. Chapter 12

Gravescour spent almost every moment that Ratchet had off that weekend with him. Much to his dismay, he still had to sleep in the guest bed. But he didn't want to go home just yet after the last fight he'd had with his mother and the older man understood.

Monday, Gravescour spent most of his day at the library or playing that phone game he liked so much. Tuesday, he and Ratchet spent most of the day goofing off, at home. In the evening, however, the teen got a call. He went outside to take it. Just as Ratchet started to worry, the younger man came back in. He looked both sad and angry, his hand clenched tightly around the garish pink phone case.

“What's wrong?” Ratchet asked.

“Mom said that if I don't come home within the hour, she's calling the cops.” Ratchet cursed. “My thoughts exactly,” the teen mumbled. He stared at the carpet for a while before he managed the courage to ask, “Will you go with me?”

“What can I do?” Ratchet asked.

The younger man walked over, taking one of Ratchet's hands with his free one. “She won't even yell at me when we have company,” he explained. “I won't keep you all night, but, well, this smells fishy.”

“It sure does,” Ratchet agreed.

Gravescour left his valuables at the older man's house when they got in his car and headed over to the teen's place. Finding the door unlocked, the raven-haired boy walked in, Ratchet close behind. The older man almost couldn't believe that such a nice house in such a nice-looking neighborhood could breed such horror, had he not seen it before.

“About goddamn time you came back, you- Oh, hello.” The woman's tone changed immediately upon noticing Ratchet.

He resisted rolling his eyes, but the teen didn't. “Uh, good evening, ma'am,” Ratchet greeted awkwardly. It was very hard to be polite to someone he hated with every fiber of his being.

“You can call me Lilith,” the blonde said with a plastic smile. “Who might you be?”

“My name's Ratchet. I'm a friend of Gravescour's.”

“Come in, come in. A friend of my son's is a friend of mine.”

The teen made a gagging noise in response to the sickeningly sweet behavior.

“Gravescour, go to your room. I'm going to talk to your friend for a bit,” she said, turning to look at her reflection in the large television in the corner of the living room.

“You're kidding,” he said.

“Go,” the woman demanded, the facade cracking for a moment.

“I'll text you,” he said to Ratchet as he walked off down the hall.

In his room, he found a man sitting on his bed, stiff prick in his hand. Gravescour just gaped for a long moment before anger consumed him. He couldn't feel most of his body, save for what felt like lava thundering through his pulse point. He huffed out a laugh as the man looked him up and down, the teen still standing in the doorway.

“Metal band posters do it for ya?” he asked, staring the stranger down.

“No, but you do,” the man said, sitting up, still touching himself.

“Sorry, but I'm not a pro anymore.” He then raised his voice loud enough for the whole house to hear; “So get the fuck out of my room before I cut your perverted ass!”

The man's eyes widened and he hastily started to pack himself away as he heard people running down the hall. “Your mom said-”

“I don't give a fuck what my mom said. I'll be eighteen in four days and I'm moving out of this dump.”

Ratchet was behind him then, and once he realized what the scene implied, he saw red. He gently eased Gravescour out of the way so he could step in and grab the man by his collar. “Did you really fucking think you were going to come in here and fuck a kid? He's seventeen!” Ratchet shouted as he drug the man from the room, throwing him to the living room floor.

“Seventeen?” the man asked, his lip bleeding from where he'd bitten it when he fell.

Ratchet knelt over the man, grabbing his collar as Lilith stood by, hands over her mouth. Gravescour watched with almost a sick glee, excited to see what would happen next. “What, she tell you he was eighteen?” Ratchet demanded, shaking the stranger. His grip tore the flimsy shirt.

“She told me he was fift- oh fuck,” the man cursed, realizing his mistake. Ratchet's whole body trembled with rage.

“I- I would never-!” Lilith said, voice of concern not her best act. “I would never let anyone lay a finger on my prec-”

“Can it, woman!” Ratchet shouted. He still glared daggers at the man, his eyes a shade greener than usual. “You sick fucks,” he started, nearly growling, “Trying to buy and sell a child. Expecting someone you think is fifteen to fuck you. You're a goddamn waste of good organs. How much did you pay?” When the man didn't respond, he shouted the same question.

“Eight-hundred!” the man answered, trying to shield his face with the hand he hadn't injured when he was thrown to the ground.

“That's all I'm worth to you?” Gravescour asked, looking over at Lilith. She sputtered, unable to find the words to defend herself.

“I'll make sure your injuries are worth double that,” Ratchet promised. “Gravescour,” he said, his voice much more calm when addressing the boy, “Go make a bag of your most important things. We'll come back for the rest later.”

“Right,” the teen said, turning on his heel.

“Stop your friend, Gravescour!” Lilith demanded.

“No,” the teen said simply, feeling no need to explain himself. He heard more screaming as he ducked into his room, grabbing the things he didn't want broken like gifts from Riot, his diploma and pieces of art he was proud of. With a few changes of clothes on top of the things of sentimental value, he decided he didn't really care if the rest of it burned.

Back in the living room, Ratchet had stood up from the man whose face he'd reorganized, and was now facing down a terrified Lilith.

“Doesn't feel so great, does it?” Gravescour asked, “Feeling small and defenseless in the face of someone bigger and stronger.” He looked to Ratchet. “We can leave now.”

The older man was still tense, his teeth bared. “If you weren't a woman, I'd fuckin' kill you,” Ratchet spat, backing away from the blonde.

“I'll be back to get the rest of my things after Saturday,” the boy said over his shoulder as Ratchet guided him out of the house.

In his car, Ratchet fumed. He slammed his fists on the steering wheel a few times before he finally managed to calm himself a bit. “Do you have a spare cigarette?” he asked, and thanked the teen when a lit one was handed to him. “Do we need to wait for the police?”

“The neighbors never called them when I screamed, so I don't know why they would now.”

“God-fucking-damnit,” Ratchet hissed. “Please tell me you didn't see me hit that piece of shit,” the older man said as he started the car.

“I didn't.”

“Thank Primus,” Ratchet said on a sigh while pulling out of the driveway, “And thank you for listening to me.”

“I trust your judgment,” Gravescour said, smoking his own cigarette.

“I need to calm down,” Ratchet said.

The teen made a noise of agreement in his throat. The two drove around for a while, chain-smoking and talking about what they'd do if the police had been called, if they came by later. The more Ratchet calmed down, the more nervous the younger man became.

“No matter what happens,” Ratchet promised, “I won't let anything else happen to you.” He glanced over at the teen while they were at a red light. “I'm still fired up, so maybe I'll regret saying this later, but it's the truth.” He took a deep breath. “Gravescour, I love you. Even if things don't work between us, I love you, and I won't let anyone lay a hand on you ever again. No matter what happens.”

Gravescour's response was immediate: “You deserve better than my troublesome ass, but I ain't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.” He put his hand on the older man's arm when he said, “I love you too.”  
  


* * *

  
That Saturday, his best friend's eighteenth birthday, Riot wanted to ask to use his phone. He'd felt guilty, thinking about what his friend was doing to celebrate without him. Would Ratchet take him out? Would they stay in and have sex? Would he be interrupting a good time if he called? He could always just leave his birthday wishes on a voicemail, he figured as he peeked into the cracked door to Starscream's off.

“Excuse me, sir?”

The slender man looked up from the paperwork he was filling out, his glare brightening into something akin to a smile. “Ah, Riot, come in,” he instructed. The teen did as asked, standing against the wall as Starscream closed the door. “Something on your mind?”

It took the white-haired teen a moment to recover from being called by his name rather than “crewman” or “recruit” to even say a work. “You called me by name,” he marveled.

“Yes? I know your names,” Starscream said with a chuckle, leaning back in his seat. “I am allowed to be somewhat friendly with you all outside of training. Though I will have to ask you to keep this brief. I do need to finish and turn this paperwork in by zero-six-hundred on Monday morning.”

“Well, today is my best friend's eighteenth birthday, and I was hoping, if it's not too much trouble, that I could call him and wish him the best?” He stood there awkwardly for a moment. “I-I'll make it brief! I don't even have to leave your office, I swear!”

Starscream's smile morphed into a grin. “Well,” he said, raising a brow, “you know the cost.” He moved one hand to the front of his pants, rubbing lightly as he stared the teen down. “Is that a price you're willing to pay?”

Riot swallowed thickly, his mouth dry and salivating at once. He kept his hands folded in front of himself. “Yes, sir,” he said, voice low.

“Hmm,” the older man hummed, cocking his head to examine the teen. “You seem to enjoy this, don't you?” He watched hands tighten, shift pants that were growing tighter. “You definitely enjoy it. I wonder,” he started, bringing his unoccupied hand to rub a finger just under his lip, “Does it get you wet?”

Riot stammered, unable to come up with words.

“I bet it does,” Starscream teased, nearly singing. “It's been a long and stressful day. I could use a show to help me reach my full potential,” he cooed. When wide eyes just stared, unblinking, Starscream sighed. “Well, I tried. I guess you'll just have to get me up with your mouth, then.”

“N-no, I'll do it. I'm just nervous,” Riot admitted. “I just don't normally show myself off like that, so I'm afraid of looking stupid.”

Starscream couldn't help but smile at the youth's honesty, watching intently as his fatigues fell to the ground. Stepping one leg out of his pants and underwear, he spread himself for the older man's view. Riot used his middle finger to rub his clit, plumping it the way he remembered his friend showing him.

“Oh, if every part of you isn't lovely,” Starscream purred, finally unzipping his own pants. He put his hand inside, stroking himself without revealing his length. He absolutely loved the way the younger man craned his neck, trying to see, his face a blazing red. “Slip a couple of fingers in there and I'll show you what you so desperately want.”

There was little hesitation when Riot dipped the middle finger down between the folds, pressing inside only to draw out moisture so he could repeat the action with two. Before long, he was biting his lips to stifle cries, his fingers working deep and fast as the older man finally showed his prize.

“Yes, lovely,” Starscream praised, then hooked a precum-drenched finger at the teen, beckoning him over. Riot took to his knees quickly, not once ceasing the motions of his fingers. Starscream would have cringed at the sound of knees hitting the floor had he not been so invested in the look of pure want on the youthful face. “Go on, take it,” he said, giving his prick a little shake.

The hot, over-eager mouth had him stifling a moan in his knuckles, close to tearing the flesh as the thick tongue lathed his length with sloppy attention. He learned from the last round, taking more of the longer length down his throat. The teen gagged, and Starscream had to grab a fistful of white locks, the clenching of the tickled throat almost too much.

“Ohh, you learn so fast,” the slender man hissed, “on and off the field.” He gave a little tug to guide the movements of the other's head. “I think we can expect big things from you.”

Riot's resulting moan brought a big grin to the older man's face.

“Are you still fingering yourself?” Starscream asked, his voice gruff in his building pleasure.

Riot could only whimper around the throbbing prick, still knuckle-deep in himself.

“Can you come, sweet thing? Pleasuring that tight hole, imagining the dick in your mouth in place of your fingers?”

Riot's desperate gasping for breath as he fucked himself on three fingers made his mouth even sloppier, but Starscream remedied that by taking fistfuls of the younger man's hair. He fucked down the throat, groaning at the back of his own. Riot gagged again as his eyes closed tight, his whole body trembling with his orgasm. His hand seized up, but he ground down on his fingers to keep the pleasure going until the older man tensed with his own orgasm. Hot ropes of cum hit the back of his throat and he swallowed reflexively, loving the way Starscream's hips twisted as he fought to keep himself from crying out.

“Oh, yes,” the older man let out a satisfied hiss when he sagged back into his chair. He gave the teen's scalp a gentle stroking in apology for pulling at it, letting the other catch his breath against the leg of his pants. “Did you get off?” Starscream asked, glad that the relaxation post-orgasm hid the nervousness in his voice.

“Yes sir,” Riot said.

Starscream couldn't help but chuckle at the formal terminology the teen used. He gave one last stroke of his fingers through the wild locks before easing him back. He offered tissues for the teen to clean himself up with, and they were readily accepted. Once cleaned and presentable, Starscream dug the boy's phone out once more. He couldn't help but tease as he handed it over; “If you keep requesting use of your phone, the price will eventually go up. I might have you wiggling your hips on my dick while you talk to Gravescour.”

The hot moment of sexual tension that started building again popped like a flimsy bubble when large red eyes blinked. “How do you know his name?” Riot asked.

Starscream nearly panicked, his pulse suddenly thundering in his ears as he realized they'd never actually talked about the raven-haired teen using his name. Thinking quickly, he sputtered out, “I- I just overheard you and Bumblebee talking about him and I assumed that's who you were calling.”

“Oh,” Riot said simply. “I guess I never realized you were around to hear our conversations.”

“Ahaha, yes, I'm quite the ninja!” the older man said, his voice a forced cheer. After staring at him for a long moment, the teen bought the excuse and shrugged. “Tell him your gorgeous commanding officer said 'happy birthday'.”

“Will do, sir. Back in thirty.”  
  


* * *

  
In the bar he frequented, Gravescour's phone started to ring. Surrounded by the people who had come to care for him, from Ratchet to Riot's father, regaling tales of his exploits, he would have missed the call had his phone not vibrated. When he pulled it out to check, he squealed, halting conversation at the table. Grabbing Ratchet's hands to drag the man out to the smoking area with him, he answered his phone, raising his voice to speak over the chatter until he got to the quieter space; “Riot! Oh my god, I can't believe they let you call me!”

“Honestly, me either,” the voice on the other line said with a chuckle. “Happy birthday, man! How's your eighteenth going?”

“It's going great!” Gravescour cheered, lighting a cigarette. He offered one to Ratchet, who declined. “I'm at the bar, if you can't tell.”

“I can. I thought you wouldn't have wanted to go back there.”

“Nah, gotta let all my old clients know I'm off the market,” the younger teen said, letting his cigarette dangle from his lips so he could take Ratchet's hand. The older man allowed it, hiding his goofy smile with a roll of his eyes.

“You guys official, then?”

“I sure hope so, after all the shit we've been through!”

“You bang yet?” Riot teased.

“I've been eighteen for less than twenty-four hours! We haven't had time to bang yet,” Gravescour said with a hearty laugh, breaking into a knee-slapping guffaw when Ratchet choked on the beer he'd brought with him.

“Really? I figured you'd hop on that dick as soon as midnight struck!” the older teen teased some more.

“How horny do you think I am? Geez.” After a beat he added, “Don't answer that.” He changed the subject. “Arcee got me a basketball jersey in our school's colors. It has the number eighteen on the back, and boy did she grin like a hell at Ratchet when I put it on. She was making fun of him so hard.”

“He doesn't need to know that!” Ratchet groused.

Gravescour stuck out his tongue at the older man.

“I'll bite that thing off if you don't put it away,” he playfully threatened.

“Optimus got me CreCo credits, and a lecture about sneaking into bars when I was underage.”

Riot laughed in response.

“Your dad is here.”

“Oh no,” the older teen groaned. He could hear the other two laughing and feared what his old man did.

“Oh yes,” Gravescour said, holding his stomach from the force of his laughter. “He is so drunk. He hit on Arcee, he hit on Optimus-”

“Optimus?!”

“Yeah. He was waving his drink around, hanging off of Optimus' arm and he said to me-” Gravescour did the best impression of Thrush that he could, “Gravescour! I learned something new about myself! I like men!”

“He did not,” Riot groaned.

“He did,” Ratchet vouched.

“Fuck my life,” he mumbled, earning a laugh from the other two. “Well, I'm glad you're having a good time. I'm sorry I can't talk for long. I miss you.”

“It's okay. I miss you, too,” the younger teen said, smiling. He leaned against Ratchet while he talked to his friend. “Just seven more weeks, right?”

“Yeah, then I get two weeks off before I move on to a new program. I'm gonna spend at least one of those weeks with you, I swear.” After a short pause, he spoke again and the grin on his face was audible as he did; “Too bad we can't take out our frustrations on each other like we used to. But! I may have met someone here.” Before the younger teen could start asking a million questions, Riot added, “I'll tell you about it when I'm more sure about what's going on.”

“Boo. That's no fun!”

“Nonsense. I'll have much more to talk about when I get back. Oh! Starscream says 'happy birthday'.”

Gravescour and Ratchet froze. “How do you know Starscream?” the raven-haired teen asked.

Silence.

“He's my C.O.? The better question is, how do you know Starscream?”

Gravescour looked to Ratchet for how to answer that question. The older man just stared. “He's a friend of Ratchet's that I met last week.”

“Tallish skinny guy with silver hair that has a red streak?”

“That's him alright,” was the answer. “Dude, he's skinnier than me. I think you have a type.”

Riot's answering shriek of “I do not!” had Ratchet laughing. “Holy shit, though,” the older teen continued, “Small world.”

“Yeah,” Gravescour could only agree.

“Hey, give everyone my best, okay? I have to go soon, but I hope the rest of your birthday is great great. … And, ya know, your night.”

Gravescour burst out laughing when Ratchet's face started to redden. “Thanks, Riot. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

After they said their goodbyes, Gravescour turned to Ratchet. He gave the older man a smile before leaning in to steal a quick kiss. Ratchet hummed softly. “You just love doing that now that you can, don't you? Kissing me in public.”

“I don't have to be a dirty little secret anymore, so yes.”

“I would have never called you that,” Ratchet promised, standing. He wrapped an arm around the teen's middle when he too stood. “I have real feelings for you. I don't just want to shag you.” After a moment he muttered, “Not that I'd mind.”

Gravescour huffed out a laugh and kissed the man again. “We will. I'm excited, too. But, for now, we head back inside and see what other shenanigans Riot's dad has gotten up to while we were out.”

“Poor Optimus,” Ratchet said with a loud snort.

They walked back into the bar, the older man's hand resting in the dip of Gravescour's back.

When they got home that evening, Gravescour was asleep on his feet. He flopped on the couch and groaned more dramatically than was necessary. Ratchet laughed. He watched as the young man took his knife and a few bobby pins from his hair, barely reaching the table to set them aside. High-heeled boots were kicked off, then the teen gave a sigh of relief.

“Come on, now,” Ratchet said, his good humor evident, “You're not sleeping on the couch. Let's get to bed.”

Gravescour seemed to perk up a bit at “bed”, but only managed to turn over and make a grabbing gesture with his hands at the older man. Ratchet smiled fondly, acutely aware that he was then able to do things he'd wanted to do with the teen for quite some time. One of those things was kneeling over the younger man, pressing the full lengths of their bodies together and embracing him, right there on the couch. Gravescour returned the gesture, making a happy noise in his throat when Ratchet buried his face in the slender neck.

“I've wanted to do this for so long,” the white-haired man said on a sigh, trying to bury his face deeper into the soft skin. Gravescour squirmed, his grip on Ratchet's button down tightening.

“Ratchet, please,” the sleepy teen whined, bearing his neck. He could feel the older man smiling into his skin, light stubble a rough but not unwelcome sensation.

“Oh no,” Ratchet said, pulling back a bit. “Our first time will not be on the couch. Plus, you look like you're about to fall asleep.” A tender kiss soothed the whining teen. “I want it to be special. You deserve it.”

“Anywhere with you will be special,” Gravescour said, a hand finding its way into the older man's hair.

Ratchet had to close his eyes, his heart pounding, feeling like his chest was swelling at the younger man's sweetness. “I appreciate that,” he said, “More than I can tell you. But we don't have to rush anything. Let's go to bed. To sleep.”

“Don't wanna move,” the sleepy teen complained.

“Too bad,” Ratchet said teasingly. He scooped up the younger man, delighting in the way icy blue eyes widened for a moment before he relented to being carried. The older man hated admitting to himself that carrying the lanky young man was no easy task as Gravescour was a fair bit heavier than he looked. But he managed to get them to his room and laid the teen on his bed. While he changed into a pair of pajamas, the raven-haired youth shimmied out of his pants and socks, leaving himself in only his new jersey and boxer briefs. Ratchet had to manhandle the teen to get him under the blanket, but he couldn't bring himself to care about the fussing, endeared by the younger man's clinging. Gravescour gave a loud, happy sigh when they finally settled.

“I have tomorrow off, so we can talk about things then. Goodnight.”

“Mm'night.”  
  


* * *

  
Riot yawned. Saturday night was his least favorite day to do watch. Getting up smack dab in the middle of his rest always made him a bit irritable, even in the best of situations, but Saturdays were even quieter than normal nights. Most went to bed early in order to be up for services or their pick of best breakfast meats the next morning. The silence was deafening, sleep called out to Riot as he paced as he was supposed to, on the lookout for any of the pranks officers had played on the other recruits on their watches.

A sound caught the white-haired teen's attention. Raising horses with his father had given him the ability to recognize the approach of a predator. He shined his flashlight at the source of the noise, holding his unloaded rifle at the ready as he'd been taught to do. Riot visibly relaxed upon seeing his drill instructor. “Sir,” he greeted.

“Crewman Riot,” Starscream said, bringing a hand up to awkwardly scratch his temple. “Congratulations. You're the first to notice me.”

“Sir?” Riot repeated, confused that time as he turned his flashlight more toward the ground so he wouldn't be blinding the older man.

“I told you before that I'm something of a ninja, yes?” he asked, stalking closer to the younger man. “Turn off your flashlight when you don't need it. Conserve battery.” As the light clicked off, the slender man moved closer still. “I've been out here on at least one of every member of the squad's watches, and you are the only one to perceive me thus far.”

Riot shivered when the man drew in close, his voice right next to a sensitive ear. “You sounded like a wolf,” he said without thinking. He actually heard the taller man hesitate in the shifting of his clothes.

“Excuse me?” Starscream asked.

The teen was thankful he'd turned the light off so the other couldn't see his blush, how his light perspiring in the heat with his full gear on had turned to beading sweat as he'd noticed him. “A-ah, I uh, had a summer ranch house growing up. M-my dad and I raised horses. The neighbors had chickens. Wolves stalked the area. Your, um, your approach sounded like a wolf stalking something in the dark,” he explained, trying to keep his stammering to a minimum.

Starscream was also relieved for the darkness, as a look of astonishment crossed his face. He'd assumed that Riot was a city boy, through and through, and that his only concerns were food, exercise, that phone game and music much like his best friend.

The light of the moon was blocked by the building they stood next to, a storage unit of sorts, casting them both in shadow.

“Huh,” was all Starscream could say for a long moment. “That certainly came in useful then, didn't it? Color me impressed,” he continued, his voice taking on a lecherous bent, right against Riot's ear. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

“S-sir?”

“Don't you?”

“Sir, yes sir,” the teen hissed.

“Good. Give me your rifle and your flashlight,” the older man instructed. He took them when they were handed over and laid them in a patch of grass nearby. It wasn't the best way to handle equipment, Starscream knew, but he was eager to make use of the time he had alone with the teen. “Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”

Riot did as told, his sweating intensifying. He almost moaned from relief when the older man unzipped the teen's jacket, a cooler burst of air making its way inside the hot boxes they called standard dress. From behind, Starscream felt up the boy's chest, tracing his pecs and abs through the sweat-soaked shirt. The man purred at the feeling of hard muscles under his fingertips.

“My goodness you sweat a lot,” he teased, reaching down to untuck the shirt and give it a little shake. He relished the way Riot shook with a chill. Starscream unbuttoned the younger man's pants, thrust a slender hand inside the find that the teen was already hard. “Do you have some sort of exhibitionist kink, crewman?” he taunted. When Riot tried to stammer out a response but only managed a whimper, Starscream grinned. “My, you're a naughty thing. Seducing your superior officer while you're supposed to be on lookout duty.”

“S-sir, I- I didn't mean-”

“Hush,” Starscream ordered. “If I didn't want to be seduced, I wouldn't be doing this.” His commanding voice returned to its sexual teasing; “I bet you're already wet, eager to have a-” He hesitated for only a second, “slightly older man of you, just outside the barracks where anyone walking out for a midnight smoke would see you with your pants around your ankles,” he said just in time for the pants he'd been fiddling with to fall to the ground around Riot's feet. A hand inside the sticky briefs, Starscream could feel moisture that wasn't sweat as his fingers bypassed the eager length and rubbed slippery folds. “Have you ever had a man inside you before, Riot?”

“I- uhh- yes?” the younger man answered, squirming as the fingers spread him.

“Did you enjoy it?” Starscream asked, lips brushing Riot's ear.

“Y-yes,” he hissed when two long fingers eased their way inside, the slide almost teasingly slow. Riot pushed down on the fingers as they moved, chasing the friction when it left him.

“Good, then you'll love this,” the older man cooed. He got a thrill from the little disappointed whine Riot gave when Starscream's hands were removed to deal with his own pants. “Hush now, and spread your legs. You only have fifteen minutes until you have to check back in, so no fussing if you want to come.”

“Yes, sir,” the teen said quietly as he stepped out of one of his pant legs, his boot catching briefly.

“So well-behaved,” Starscream marveled, using one hand to feel out the firm backside in the dark. He gave the overheated lips a teasing rub with one knuckle from behind before using his other to line himself up. Barely breaching the hole that tried to clench on nothing, the older man had to ask; “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir. Please give me my reward,” Riot whispered harshly, shifting his hips back so the head of his instructor's length slipped inside with an audible wet sound.

Starscream huffed out a curse and shoved in deep, grinning at the way Riot whimpered, sure the other was biting his lip to keep from crying out. He lost himself in the first thrusts into the new hole, the slick slide an amazing feeling. He was glad he'd pleasured himself earlier in the day or he knew he would have been done for at the first squeeze. “So eager to serve, even when getting a reward,” Starscream teased, even though he was struggling for his own breath. He wrapped himself around the teen as much as their uniforms would let him, letting the sturdy youth take his weight as both his hands wandered low. One set of lean fingers wrapped around an eager prick, trying to commit its shape to memory as he slowly stroked. The other set found Riot's soaking wet clit and rubbed, fast and hard, hoping to bring the teen to orgasm before his own hit. “Keep quiet now,” he said. “You wouldn't want to get caught.” But when the silken heat around his prick clenched and he felt the teen's groan against his lips where they brushed his neck, the older man changed his tune; “Or maybe you would. You'd want your allies to see you getting railed, wouldn't you? I bet those pent-up teens could use a show to beat their dicks to. You'd give it to them, wouldn't you?”

Riot couldn't respond, his knees locking up to hold himself on his feet as the dual assault of orgasms ripped through him. His teeth clenched tightly as Starscream groaned into his lats. He whined and sagged when Starscream pulled out and away, jerking his length by the sound of things. Riot gave a weak “oh” when he felt the other's seed splatter his ass. Starscream's happy little sigh brought a smile to the exhausted teen's face.

“Alright, pull your pants up, crewman. You don't have much time left until you have to check in.” As shaky hands did as told, Starscream leaned in close again to whisper, “I hope you enjoy having my cum smeared all over you as you report in. I bet you'll get such a thrill at parading your secret before the eyes of someone who hasn't a clue.” He ate up the way the teen shivered. “Too bad we don't have the time to go again. I could come on your chest too, and people would just think the wet spot on your shirt is sweat.”

Riot had to pull away at the taunting, only able to handle so much without his body getting ready to go again.

“Too much? My apologies, crewman. I wish I could stick around and watch you exchange shifts, but I have an early day tomorrow. Sleep well,” he said, leaning down to grab the gun and flashlight he'd left in the grass.

“Y-you too, sir,” Riot stuttered as he accepted them. They stepped out into the moonlight together and Starscream took a long look at the teen at his side. He chuckled. “Sir?”

“Your clothes are all crooked,” he explained, and promptly proceeded to help the other adjust them.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Riot mumbled, a blush rising to his face. He hoped the moonlight wasn't enough for the other to see it.

“Don't worry about it. I wouldn't want you to get caught accepting your reward would I? Hmm, not that you didn't seem to like that idea.”

“W-well-!” Riot cut himself off, not knowing what to say.

“As long as no one actually sees, you can fantasize all you like,” the older man teased. “Well, go check in and wash up before you sleep. Real people do your laundry.”

“Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Riot.”

The teen had the strangest feeling as they parted ways. Part exhilarated, part disgusted and thoroughly confused at the butterflies in his belly. He was sticky all over, but didn't regret his actions even though he knew he should. He could have figured out that banging his superior officer was wrong, even if it wasn't in the rule book. Yet he felt very little guilt, which worried him. He tried to put it out of his mind and act normal and not distracted as he exchanged salutes and handed off his rifle and flashlight to the next crewman on watch.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much just sex.

The next day, Gravescour woke Ratchet with breakfast. He found a small folding table that he could pile with their food and plop down on the bed next to the man to eat.

“Shouldn't I be spoiling you like this right now?” Ratchet asked, cutting himself off a piece of the large frittata the teen made.

Gravescour shook his head. “I wouldn't be able to eat breakfast in bed, so it would be a waste.”

“Why not?”

“I can't eat right after I get up without getting sick,” he explained.

Ratchet frowned but let it go. “This is pretty good,” he said, changing the subject.

“Thanks!” the teen cheered. “I love to cook, so I can do that for you while I'm staying here.”

Ratchet turned to the younger man, who sat cross-legged beside him. “You don't have to do anything to stay here,” he promised.

Gravescour put his fork down. He stared at a space between the dishes. “I know, but it doesn't feel fair. I'd offer rent, but you own, so you don't have a number you can halve to give me a price.”

“Not to mention I have plenty of money. I could retire now, live to ninety and still have money left over. I don't need your money, hun.”

“So I have to do something, ya know? You've helped me so much, and I don't really have anything I can offer. Except, well, sex, but I was hoping we'd have fun with that and not make it a business transaction.”

“As was I,” Ratchet said, setting the folding tray aside. He reached over to rest his hand on the other's shoulder. “You really don't have to do anything but clean up after yourself. You could move in to stay if you want, but I would still encourage you to get a job or go to school,” he offered. “Though, honestly, if you do move in permanently, I'm a little afraid you'll get tired of me,” he admitted, a sad smile on his face.

Gravescour looked up then. “How could I get tired of you?” he asked. “We're still getting to know each other.” He scooted closer so he could lay his head on Ratchet's shoulder, giving a contented little sound when the hand that had been on the closest shoulder moved to the opposite in a half-hug. “You've got a lifetime of stories to tell me. I don't think I'll ever get bored of just talking to you. Outside of, like, teachers and Riot, no one ever wanted to do that with me. People's backgrounds and experiences were never exactly my business.”

“Hey now, I'm sure you've got a lifetime of stories for me, too. You and Riot seem to get pretty crazy together, so I bet those tales are good for a few laughs. I also want to find out someday how you developed such a mature attitude toward life when most people your age only care about having fun.” Ratchet gave an awkward little laugh. “I do forget how young you are sometimes. It's so easy to forget that you're less than half my age when I can actually talk to you.” He was glad the teen couldn't see the face he pulled. “That's something I meant to talk to you about. Are you really okay with this age difference here?”

“Of course,” Gravescour said without hesitation.

“You aren't afraid of what people will say?”

“Let them talk,” the younger man said firmly, bringing one of his arms up to wrap around Ratchet's middle. “I've been called everything someone can call someone else. Things like 'gold digger' don't hurt me anymore. I love you. You love me. Riot approves. I'm legal now. That's all that matters.”

Ratchet coughed awkwardly at the second to last statement. “If we stay together for the rest of my life, you'll be in your forties or fifties when I die. Is that something you're really alright with?”

Gravescour took a deep breath before sitting up straight. He pushed his hair out of his face and made eye contact with the older man. “Ratchet, either of us could die tomorrow. That's no reason to throw away what we have.

“Honestly, there were many times I thought I wouldn't live to see eighteen, but I didn't give up and here I am. Just because I might outlive you, I won't be scared off.” His face turned red and he looked away, smiling awkwardly.

Ratchet reached out, a large hand cupping a warm, blushing cheek. He turned the face toward him, moving forward to press their lips together. At first it was a soft, tender thing, but it soon became more, tongues meeting for the first time. Gravescour pulled Ratchet down over him with a grip on the older man's pajama shirt. They kissed for several minutes, petting hair and carefully exploring whatever skin they could find. But, when Gravescour started on the buttons of the soft shirt his partner wore, Ratchet took slender hands in his and held them. He answered the confused look; “I'm as excited as you are, but we need to talk first.

After a huff and a little whine, Gravescour gave a sigh of defeat. “You're right,” he groaned. “At the very least we'd have to lay down a towel, anyway.”

“A towel?”

Gravescour's face reddened. “I kinda... make a mess when I come.”

“Oh,” Ratchet breathed, his face matching his partner's in color. He cleared his throat in an attempt to recover. “We also need to have a, uh, dos and don'ts talk, and I need to let you know that I did contract an STI when I was deployed, but that was thirty years ago, and every time I've been tested since I've had a clean bill of health.”

“Surprisingly enough, I'm clean and on the pill, so we don't have to worry about that, at least,” Gravescour said, idly running his fingers through white locks.

“That's good,” Ratchet said, pressing into the gentle touch. “I need to know what you like,” he said, nuzzling the teen's temple, “And the things I'll need to avoid.”

“Honestly, as long as you don't hurt me, I'm fine with whatever,” Gravescour said with a bit of a shrug.

“I would never. But is there anything you really like? I'd like to be able to do that for you.”

“I, um, can't think of anything?”

“How about oral?”

“I'm down to suck dick, yeah.”

Ratchet's face stayed red. “I- I meant receiving. Do you like having your dick sucked?”

“Um,” the teen said, blinking. “I don't know. Never really had anyone do that to me. Had my clit sucked several times. I liked that.” He seemed to think for a moment. “Well, I mean, a lot of people used to request that, so it must not feel awful.” He laughed. “I do jerk off on occasion, so I do like dick stimulation if that's what you're asking.”

“Well, erm, I, uh, really like doing that.” He lifted the other's jersey to stroke the younger man's hip, dipping his fingers under the band of his underwear. Gravescour shivered. “It just excites me so much. I'm too old to question it now, but I'd gladly spend the whole day on my knees for you. The knee pain would be worth it.”

“I don't want you to hurt yourself,” Gravescour said, fingers tightening in Ratchet's hair when his smallest finger brushed his engorged length.

“The ache would remind me of what a good time we had,” Ratchet purred. He smirked at the little “oh” the teen gasped out. “Can I do that to you when we're done with this conversation?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Oh fuck I already can't think straight,” Gravescour whined.

“I can tell,” Ratchet said with a chuckle. “I'm getting to that point myself,” he admitted, taking his hand from the teen's underwear. He gently rubbed the boy's slightly concave belly to soothe him. “We'll get there soon. Just a few more things we need to talk about.”

“Like what?” Gravescour whined, taking one hand from around the older man's shoulders to rub himself through his briefs. Ratchet's lips parted as he watched for a moment, slender fingers on most intimate parts separated only by a thin layer of cotton. He had to tear his eyes away, looking up at the younger man's face.

“Just, uh, other preferences,” he managed.

“I'd prefer to get fucked at some point today,” the slender teen quipped, his tongue peeking between his lips.

“Yeah, well-!” Ratchet said with a huff. “I guess that means you prefer being penetrated?” he asked, laying his hand over the smaller one.

Gravescour bucked his hips as Ratchet pressed down, adding more friction. “You don't strike me as the type to like being on the receiving end,” the teen said, needing to bury his face in the other's chest.

“You'd be surprised,” the white-haired man said with a little chuckle, shooing the slender hand away so he could warm the boy up himself. “I can go either way, really. It just depends on how I'm feeling.” When he hesitated, the younger man brought it back up to his hip. Ratchet marveled at the moisture that had transferred to his fingers from just that little touch. “I kinda thought you might want to be on top with everything you'd been through recently.”

Gravescour smiled. He buried his face deeper in the cotton clad chest, sure he looked ridiculous. “I still like getting fucked. I mean, when I sent you that picture, I wasn't kidding,” he said, finally pulling back to look up at Ratchet. He took two handfuls of the soft shirt and pulled the man fully on top of him. “I've thought about it so much, having you inside me.” Ratchet shivered, leaning down to kiss and suckle at the skin of the pale neck. “Maybe it's because it's all I know, but I like it.”

“Have you ever...?” the older man asked, encouraging one of the long legs to wrap around him with a little guidance and appreciation from a thick hand.

“I have, just rarely. Do you want me to?”

“Right now,” Ratchet said, pausing to steal a quick kiss, “I want what you want.” After a moment of simply stroking the thigh against his side, he added; “And to suck your dick. But other than that, it's up to you.”

“We can start with that and see where it goes,” the teen said, threading his fingers in short white locks once more.

“Anything else before I rock your world?” Ratchet asked with a smirk, getting a giggle from the teen.

“Oh,” Gravescour said, remembering something.

“What is it?”

“I don't really like pet names in bed that much. 'Hun' is fine, but nothing like 'sweet boy' or anything weird like that.”

Blue-green eyes blinked. “Alright. I won't do that,” he promised.

“Clothes come off now?”

Ratchet gave a hearty laugh and sat back on his haunches, looking down at the boy. “Clothes come off now,” he agreed, pulling his shirt off over his head. Before the shirt even hit the floor, Gravescour's hands were all over Ratchet, exploring the newly-exposed skin. He gave a soft sigh, letting the teen get his fill. The awed expression gave him a little confidence boost, as he'd been nervous about how the teen would react to a body that had gone soft around the edges in its age, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, and grinned at the way Ratchet moaned when a thin thumb teased a pebbled nipple.

Finally taking action, the older man reached between them, pushing the jersey up farther with one hand, splaying it across the deceptively broad chest. Gravescour's hands found his hair once more as Ratchet leaned forward to pepper kisses all over his chest, ignoring perky nipples in favor of trailing down to the band of his boxer briefs. The teen eagerly lifted his hips to help the other get them off and, after a little awkward shimmying, both men had shed their clothing. Ratchet gave a sharp hip a little nip, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Stop me if you get uncomfortable,” Ratchet instructed. He waited until he received a nod from the teen before taking the head of the length into his mouth.

The teen moaned, writhing under the slick sensation.

Ratchet took him to the root, doing things with his tongue that had the younger man seeing stars, maybe pulling on white locks harder than strictly necessary. Ratchet couldn't help but moan, the pulling on his hair and the stiff prick throbbing against his tongue making his nerves sing with excitement. Opening his eyes, the older man looked up at Gravescour, finding his eyes blown wide, staring down at him with his knuckle shoved in his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. Smiling around the length, Ratchet decided to try to make the younger man cry out. Closing his eyes again, Ratchet redoubled his efforts, relaxing his throat so he could take the teen all the way again and again. The humping hips and whining had Ratchet's own length throbbing, but he held off on touching himself so he could wrap his hands around surprisingly muscular thighs.

“Fuck,” Gravescour bit out. “Oh, god, Ratchet. I don't- I-” The moan that seemed to vibrate up his spine was what did the teen in. He gave the hair in his hands a sharp tug, whimpering as he spilled his seed down the older man's throat with a groan, “Fuck, Ratchet.”

The older man kept laving the prick with attention as it started to soften, sucking out every last drop. Just when he felt that the teen was starting to get to the brink of overstimulation, Ratchet pulled back. “How you feelin'?” he asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Gravescour said with a nod, earning himself a laugh. Slender hands had fallen away to the bed, hands clenching slightly as his chest heaved.

“Yes?” Ratchet teased, shifting position and hooking the younger man's knees over his shoulders. “Does that mean 'more'?” he asked, blowing a cool puff of air on the exposed clit.

“Yes!” Gravescour said again, louder, fists clenched in the sheets as he tried to get the contact that had been teased.

Ratchet flicked his tongue over the swollen nub a couple of times to get the boy squirming, to get those hands back in his hair to put his face exactly where it was wanted. He suckled on the nerve cluster, loving the way the youth bucked into his mouth.

“Please, Ratchet, please,” he begged, shoving himself against the other, smearing the angular face with his natural lubricant. “More. God, more,” he begged, his body twisting.

Taking one hand from around a thigh, Ratchet gently worked a finger inside the teen. He groaned at how wet he was, the little penetration like the bursting of a dam as the boy's hole dribbled around the digit. He added a second and had to use his other arm to hold the squirming slender body still.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, harder! Harder! Gonna come! Oh fuck,” Gravescour babbled, jerking his hips.

Ratchet didn't let up, still battering the swollen clit with his tongue as the clenching pussy gushed in his mouth and all over his face. He groaned at the feeling of his partner's fluids dripping down his chin, licking and sucking until the teen sagged back to the bed. The older man pulled back to watch his fingers slide in and out of the needy hole. “I see what you meant by a towel,” Ratchet said with a slight chuckle. “Fuck, I wanna see you do that again. Can I?”

“Give me more fingers and yes! God, Ratchet. Ratchet, I want your dick. Fuck,” the teen babbled. The sound turned into a loud moan as Ratchet craned his neck to start tongue-fucking the large nub again. A third finger found its way into the already-throbbing hole and the older man could no longer resist touching himself. He brought his free hand up to gather some of the teen's leaking fluids and wrapped his wet hand around the straining prick. Gravescour bucked even harder as he came on three fingers, shoving himself back against them, holding onto the back of Ratchet's head.

The older man lapped up as much as he could, but couldn't be bothered to care about the rest running down his neck and chest. When he pulled back to catch his breath, he couldn't help but chuckle, pressing soft kisses to a trembling thigh.

“Sorry,” the teen said, trying to smile as he caught his breath. “I told you we'd need a towel.”

“That one's on me,” Ratchet said, nuzzling the thigh his head lay against. “Lucky for you I have many comforters in the closet, so it doesn't matter if a few get wet,” he teased.

With a labored groan, Gravescour sat up. He reached down to take Ratchet's sopping face in his hands and pull him up for a kiss. When they parted, the teen licked his lips, a glint in his eye that made the older man tremble.

“I get to return the favor now, right?”

“I would love that,” the man nearly growled, letting himself be manhandled onto his back. “But I do have to warn you that my orgasms aren't that explosive,” he teased again, winking.

Gravescour blushed furiously, turned away briefly and then looked back. “Do you, um, do you want me to, uh, finger you while I suck you off?” he asked, his fists balled up by his chest.

Ratchet blinked, leaning up on his elbows. “Why are you getting shy all of a sudden?” the older man asked, bending his good leg to put himself on display. He had to fight the urge to hide his scars as the teen looked him over, licking his lips.

“I'm not really experienced in fingering anyone other than myself,” he admitted, committing the size and shape of his lover's member to memory. He watched a bead of precum glide down the underside of the prick, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. “I just want to make you feel good,” the teen said, getting to his hands and knees, bending down to lick away the stripe of precum he'd watched drip.

Ratchet gave a pleased sigh at the touch of the slick muscle.

“I'm afraid I'll fuck it up,” the teen's voice quiet, words mumbled between kisses along the length.

“I doubt you'll fuck it up,” Ratchet said. “Come up here,” he asked, patting the dry duvet beside him. Gravescour went, folding himself into the man's side. He let Ratchet take his hand, guide it down past his length and encouraged the slender fingers to rub the springy skin there. Both gave a quiet gasp, and Ratchet held the younger man close with his free arm. “Just be gentle at first,” he instructed, cheeks dusted with pink as he spread himself for the other's exploration.

Gravescour rubbed two fingers over the older man's clit, reveling in the dreamy sigh it earned him.

“Yeah, that feels good,” Ratchet breathed. His thighs tended when the fingers picked up their pace a bit. “Ah- ah- Oh, it's been a while since I've been stimulated like this,” he managed, panting into dark hair. “I'll come really fast if you don't stop. Why don't you- oh- push them in?”

As his fingers moved lower, Gravescour grew nervous. The older man wasn't as moist as he or Riot had been when doing the same thing. “Are you sure? I- uh-”

“Yes. Like I said, it's not as easy as it used to be. I'm wet, just inside.”

“Wait a sec,” Gravescour said, pulling his hand away. The teen spread his own legs to dip his fingers inside himself and gather up his own fluids. He whined, fucking himself with his fingers for a few seconds, groaning when he took them out. He smeared his own fluids over the older man's eagerly clenching hole, Ratchet's pleased curse turning into a moan as Gravescour eased two fingers in. It was almost painfully slow and had Ratchet panting again. As the slender fingers reached deep and curled carefully, the older man bucked.

“Shit. Yes, that feels good. Oh-” He cut himself off with a moan as the fingers flexed and curled. Ratchet gave up on holding himself open to stroke his own clit, bucking his hips against the fingers putting pressure on something wonderful inside. “Keep- keep doing that. It feels great,” he groaned, squeezing the slender shoulders tight. “Kiss me swe-” Remembering the teen's request for no pet names, he stuttered, “Gravescour. Please kiss me. I'm going to come on your fingers.” He was granted his kiss, barely able to thrust his tongue into the teen's mouth before his inner walls were clamping hard, the muscles pushing back against long fingers as they tried to curl again. Ratchet keened, his hips shifting into the touch, trying to ride out the waves of pressure just so.

Gravescour's dick throbbed against the scarred skin of his lover's leg as he ate up the sounds the older man made.

“Damn,” the older man said with a chuckle as he broke the kiss. He had to lay his head on the teen's shoulder for a moment while he caught his breath. “Ease them out now,” he said breathlessly. Ratchet gave a helpless groan as he watched the younger man taste him from his fingers. “Do you still want me inside you?” he asked after a short, snuggly rest.

“I do,” Gravescour said. “I- I've thought so much about it, been so eager to make love with you,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the older man's temple.

“I've thought about it, too.” He added barely above a whisper; “Though I've tried not to.” The older man sat up straight, brushing Gravescour's long hair back over his shoulder. “I wanted to lay you down in the cliched rose petals the first time I was inside you, but I guess I'll have to wait for another special occasion for that.”

The teen hid a goofy smile behind his hand. “I don't need that kind of thing,” he said.

“I want to give it to you, though,” the older man said, nudging the hand away with his nose. He kissed the younger man again, easing him back to the bed.

Gravescour broke the kiss with a surprised yelp when he wound up in a cold wet spot. He laughed, arms around Ratchet's neck as the man chuckled, moving them both to a cleaner spot.

“Sorry about that,” the older man said, still smiling. “Do you think you're ready, or do you want to take a little longer? You seemed pretty close to being overstimulated earlier,” he spoke softly, tenderly caressing every bit of skin he could reach. He catalogued every little scar and bump and healing bruise as the teen cooed his assent. “Good. Let me know if I can do anything to make it feel better for you.”

Ratchet urged the boy to wrap his legs around his waist, his eager prick poised at the tense hole. “Relax, Gravescour,” he instructed. “I'll go easy. I love you,” he said to distract the slender man as he pushed in slowly, watching the expressions flit across his lover's face as he was stretched open. Ratchet had feared that, after the boy had been with Megatron, he wouldn't be able to satisfy him. He could admit, silently and to himself, that the bastard was good in bed. But, it seemed as though he'd worried over nothing if the parted lips, half-lidded eyes and the nails digging into his back were anything to go by. He took the teen's lips, giving him the tender kisses the older man felt he deserved as he rocked in, still exploring the slender body with his fingertips.

Gravescour made pleased little sounds into his mouth, his inner walls rippling around his prick every time he initiated a new series of kisses. Soon, Ratchet felt his own orgasm approaching, the tension in his knees and back only adding to the desperate feeling. He had to break the lip-lock, earning him a whine.

“I'm sorry,” Ratchet soothed. “You feel so good,” he moaned against a perspiring temple. “Can I come inside you, or would you rather I pull out?”

“Inside,” the teen said hastily. “Can you- can you, um, rub my clit?” he asked, his nerves getting the better of him and making him stutter. “I want to come on your dick.”

Ratchet shivered at the words. He could only nod, bringing a hand between them, still holding the teen tight with the other. When he started to thumb the swollen nub, the teen started bucking his hips, a steady mantra of “yes, yes, yes,” coming from him. Ratchet cooed praises as the younger man seized up. The clenching pelvic floor pulled Ratchet's orgasm from him, almost by surprise. He buried his face in the taut, pale neck and the two rode out their orgasms together, leaving crescent-shaped indents in each other's skin where nails caught. To Ratchet's surprise, Gravescour was the first to recover and stroked his hair tenderly as he came down from his high, finding himself cradled in the teen's chest.

“That was amazing,” the younger man said when greenish eyes looked up. “Holy shit, I couldn't have asked for a better first time.”

It hit Ratchet then that the moment they were in may have been the teen's first romantic sexual act. He got back to his knees to kiss the younger man, cupping his cheeks and trying to pour all of his feelings into it. When they parted, Gravescour chuckled.

“You're kissing me like you're trying to convince me not to leave.”

“Ah- well, I mean, I don't want you to leave?”

“I don't think you'll be able to get rid of me now,” the teen said, soothingly rubbing the areas of Ratchet's back that he dug his nails into. “Thank you,” he said, turning his head to catch Ratchet's lips. “You might want to shower soon,” he teased with a laugh.

Ratchet smiled. He felt a little ridiculous and a whole lot in love. “After we reheat what's left of breakfast. That took a lot out of me.”

“Sounds good,” the teen said, his smile making his eyes.

In the shower, Ratchet knelt behind the younger man who made a joke about groceries, even as he held the man's head in place and humped back against him.

Clean and dry, they curled up on the couch and drifted off for a short nap over another bad movie recommendation from Arcee.  
  


* * *

  
Over a week had passed with no special attention from Starscream, aside from the older man picking on him a bit more than the others while running drills, so Riot felt a bit pent up. He lay in his bunk, the sheets tented by his erection as he tried to come up with an excuse to ask for access to his phone. His dad's birthday wasn't for another seven months, so that was out as an option. He didn't know Ratchet's birthday, nor did he have his number. He hated his mother, and his sister's birthday was in the winter.

Riot considered sneaking his hand under the sheets and pleasuring himself, but he remembered how loud he'd been the first time he'd tried that, and gave an irritated sigh. The words were still burned in his mind: “Whoever is slapping their dick around like a handball, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but take it to the showers.”

He was about to sigh again when he heard the familiar sounds of a wolf stalking a chicken. His ears perked up along with his heartbeat as the sound stalked closer. The bed dipped when a skinny knee leaned on it.

“Are you awake?” Starscream whispered, putting a hand on Riot's shoulder.

“Yes,” Riot whispered in return, moving over to make room for the older man.

Starscream promptly laid down next to him, shimmying under the covers and turning Riot to face away from him. “I'm surprised you didn't ask me to use your phone this week,” was the quiet teasing that accompanied the tender touch to his stomach.

“I- I don't have anyone that has an important event this week,” Riot hissed as quietly as he could while long, slender fingers dipped below the band of his shorts.

“Good,” the older man cooed, right in his ear, “I was starting to think you'd grown tired of me.”

“N-never!” Riot said, just above a whisper, and was quickly hushed by the officer behind him.

“Wonderful, but you need to be quiet, lest you wake up your bunkmates.” His fingers teased the heated folds, the middle dipping between them only for a second before withdrawing. “But you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?” he teased, dipping the finger in again. He added a second, but didn't thrust yet, simply felt. “Waking up your bunkmates with your moaning, having them all jerk off to the sounds of your wet pussy getting fingered.” The two fingers started to move. Aided by the moisture that was already there they slid in and out over and over as the teen tried to keep himself from making any sounds. Before long, the fingers started to make a wet squelch with each rough shove in, and Riot squirmed. He bit his pillow which he pulled to his face to stifle his little noises of pleasure. “Maybe you'd like to give them a show?” the older man taunted, rubbing his clothed erection against the firm ass before him. “We could turn on the light and have you spread your legs.” Starscream couldn't help but grin as Riot did as suggested, making his access even easier, “And let everyone watch me finger your desperately horny pussy. Watch your hole clench on my fingers and how you practically fuck yourself on them because you need something in you, all while they jerk their cocks.”

Riot trembled, pushing back on the fingers. He was glad the older man wasn't rubbing his clit or his dick, because any more stimulation would rob him of his ability to keep quiet. It was already so difficult, fucking himself on the fingers – pushing down as Starscream pushed in – imagining his fellow crewman surrounding the bed with their dicks in their hands. He could almost hear them egging them on:

“Yeah, fuck that horny pussy!”

“Give that hole what it needs!”

“Fuck, I wanna shove my dick in there!”

“I bet I could make that pussy come all over my dick.”

“You're so wet,” the real Starscream, not the fantasy, said. “Getting off on the thought of being caught, so naughty,” he teased, adding a third finger.

Riot bucked and gave a little whimper. The older man shushed him again. “Sorry,” the teen hissed. “It feels so good.”

“I bet it does,” Starscream whispered, kicking the sheets off of them. He encouraged the teen to pull his underwear down to his ankles. “If anyone looked right now, they'd see your horny pussy getting fingered. Yeah, squeeze me,” the older man growled as the cold air on his exposed intimate parts made Riot clamp down.

Unable to keep himself quiet any longer, Riot grabbed a fist full of silver locks and craned his neck to slam his mouth against the other's. He missed how the action made Starscream's dick throb against him. When he paused in his ministrations, Riot almost apologized. He didn't get a chance to when Starscream shoved his lips against the younger man's even more roughly than he had been. They tasted the inside of each other's mouths, teeth scraping and tongues trying to push the other down as slender fingers resumed their pummeling of the slick passage. He added his thumb to the mix, flicking the exposed clit. When he came, Riot bit Starscream's lip, thankfully doing little more than giving a quiet growl and humping the fingers in an attempt to make the wonderful feeling last longer. He almost groaned when the fingers withdrew, but his heart racing began anew when his hand was guided to the slender man's exposed length.

“Jerk me off,” Starscream ordered, humping into the loose channel the orgasm-weak fingers made. “Your slutty little show got my dick throbbing.”

Riot did as told, taking the length in a former grip to stroke it. His hole throbbed weakly, and he wished for the prick in his hand inside it, though he knew they didn't have the time, space, or privacy.

Starscream came with a sigh into black and white locks, fucking into the teen's hand until every last drop had been milked from him. When he caught his breath, he chuckled almost inaudibly. “Your exhibitionist fantasies are too much for me,” he teased.

Not knowing what possessed him to do so, he gave Riot's lips another peck while he packed himself up. “Get some sleep, crewman,” Starscream ordered, climbing out of the bed and sneaking off.

Riot wanted to grumble to himself, but he didn't. He was delighted that his superior officer was still interested and had brought him to orgasm on his fingers, but he still wanted more. He reached between his legs to start fingering himself again, blissfully unaware that Bumblebee had his hand on his dick, not two beds away. The blonde couldn't help pleasuring himself to the slick sounds of Riot's fingers in his own pussy pushing him toward his orgasm.  
  


* * *

  
Gravescour has applied for his name change online the day he turned eighteen. Two and a half weeks and a visit with an oddly sympathetic judge later, it was official. He took his documentation to another office in the building and, twenty minutes later, he was showing his shiny new ID to a chuckling Ratchet.

That same day, the teen got a call for an interview. He was ecstatic, dressed in his khaki pants and an old button down he borrowed from Ratchet. Though he was a bit nervous, as he had to put his hair in a low ponytail to look presentable, and therefore couldn't carry his knife. At least, not the way he was used to. The older man assured him he'd be just fine, and that he'd be outside in the car. Forty-five minutes later, the teen practically tackled him when he jumped into the passenger seat, cheering about how he got the job. They got ice cream to celebrate, sharing a laugh when they found out they both favored vanilla over other flavors.

Friday morning, as both men were getting ready for work, Ratchet stopped Gravescour with a hug in the hallway. The teen returned the embrace, pressing his full length against the older man. “Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Ratchet teased.

“Um, actually, that is my knife,” Gravescour admitted, his face turning a charming shade of red. “I have to wear my hair in a bun, so I can't carry my knife the way I usually do,” and he pulled back to stand there, awkwardly smiling.

“Do you really think you'll need that thing, working at a coffee shop-bakery place?”

“I don't know who any of my former clients were in the daytime, and I kinda got off the market pretty quickly, so I don't know if anyone will be upset with me,” the teen explained, wringing his hands.

Ratchet carefully put his hand on a slender shoulder. “Do you really think they'd do something like that?” he asked nervously, his hand unconsciously squeezing. “I mean, how many times have you actually used it?”

“I've had to pull it a few times, but I only actually stabbed one guy.”

“Stabbed someone?” the older man asked, his eyes widening.

“Well, he was hurting me,” Gravescour defended, shrinking back until Ratchet's hand slipped from his shoulder. “I thought he was gonna break my leg, and he kept coming after me after I pulled it, saying I didn't have the internal testicles-”

“Gravescour, you don't have to justify it,” Ratchet said, holding his hand out for the teen to take if he wanted. “I'm proud of you for defending yourself. I'm just a little surprised that someone as young and kind as you would be able to stab someone and remain the way you have. That's all.”

“So, you're not scared of me?”

The tone of the younger man's voice was heart-breaking, the pale eyes shyly glancing up just as painful. “Of course not,” Ratchet said, smiling as the teen took his hand. “I ain't done anything that would make you stab me.”

“Yet,” Gravescour deadpanned. When Ratchet started to chuckle nervously, the teen broke out into laughter. “I love you!” he squeaked between giggles.

“I love you, too,” Ratchet said, “Which actually brings me to the reason I stopped you.” He pulled the slender body close, wrapping his free arm around the other. “When we both get home, I want to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” Gravescour asked, a hint of fear lining his voice.

“Nothing bad,” the older man promised, pressing a kiss to the side of the pulled-back hair. “In fact, I hope you'll think it's good. I hope.”

“Alright,” the teen said, though it sounded more like a question.

On his way home from work, Gravescour picked up a few things from the grocery store. Walking in the door, the first thing he did was pull out his hair tie and shake out his hair. He found Ratchet on the couch, already in sweatpants and a shirt.

“I'm finally home,” the teen cheered. He held up the bag to show it to the other. “I got stuff to make dinner tonight,” he said.

“I thought we'd get pizza tonight. To celebrate your new job and my plan, but if you're up for cooking, I won't stop you.”

“I can put it in the refrigerator and cook tomorrow. Pizza sounds good,” he said, dropping the bag by the couch. He flopped down on Ratchet's lap, legs spread over the man and arms around his neck. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Ratchet let his hands come to rest on the slender hips, smiling at seeing the boy in one of his older shirts. It was a little big on the younger man, but with the shoulders padded, he looked good in it. “How would you feel about me going into partial retirement?”

“Partial?”

“Yeah. It's for transitioning into retirement, but not doing it all at once

“Right now, I work four days a week, and I'm on call for one. But if I go into partial retirement, I'll only work two days a week at a specialty clinic for, I dunno, a year or so until I actually do retire. I can also access that money I have saved up for retirement, but I don't really need any of that,” he explained, gently stroking the teen's sides. He could feel his face heating as he continued; “I, uh, want to spend as much time with you as I can while I still have the energy.”

Gravescour's face lit up. He'd previously been giving a worried pout, but brightened at the older man's reasoning. “If that's what you want, I'm behind you,” the dark-haired young man said, smiling. As he leaned down to kiss Ratchet, his hair made a curtain around them. “We can go camping more, maybe do something with the back yard,” he trailed off dreamily.

Ratchet chuckled, wrapping the younger man in a warm hug. “Making plans already?” he asked, holding the boy in place when he tried to back away. “Hey, I'm not complaining! I'm happy. So god damn happy,” he said, stealing a kiss. “You make me feel young again.”

“You're not even that old.”

Ratchet scoffed in response. “Fifty is the new thirty!” the older man laughed that time. “Oh, speaking of,” Ratchet started, trailing off for a moment. “I was thinking about what I'm gonna do for my fiftieth birthday. Maybe a big party in the backyard, or a camping trip with everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Oh, you know. Optimus and whoever he's dating at the time, Arcee, Jackie, Bulkhead, you, obviously. I'd have to have it on a weekend so Starscream and Riot would be able to come, since they'll be in flight training around then. But it's not like basic where they can't even call. It's more like school. They're pretty much free to do whatever they want on weekends, so I'm pretty sure they'll come too.”

Ratchet felt like he was rambling by the time he was done and gave a sheepish look up at the teen.

“That could be fun,” Gravescour agreed. “But, uh, Optimus is dating Riot's dad right now, and Riot doesn't know, so that might be awkward,” he said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah. They hooked up that night at the bar, didn't they?” Ratchet asked, huffing out a laugh.

“Yeah. Riot is gonna shit bricks.” They shared a little laugh and a few soft kisses. “You had me worried all day, you know,” the teen teased.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. Other'n that, how was your first day on the job?”

“It was pretty good,” Gravescour answered with a nod. “I got hit on a lot, which I wasn't expecting because this shirt makes me look broad-shouldered and not tiny and cute, but, ya know.”

“It's a good look for you,” Ratchet said, “You look quite handsome.”

“Don't tease me,” the teen said with a pout.

“It's the truth!” After a moment of somewhat embarrassed silence from the white-haired man, he continued; “I like it when you dress more masculine. I've got nothing against any of your clothes, but seeing you in a pair of boot cut jeans and a flannel kinda, uh, gets my engine fired up. I- I like that jersey Arcee got you, too.” He seemed ashamed to admit that, his face turning as red as his eyebrows.

Gravescour giggled. “You didn't seem to like it when I first got it.”

“Well! Arcee was taunting me. She was looking directly at me when you opened it. She even wiggled her fucking eyebrows.”

Gravescour laughed so hard he had to lean his head on Ratchet's shoulder.

“She sent me texts that said 'he's eighteen now' that whole day!”

The teen's laughter didn't subside for several minutes.

“Anyway, forget about all that. Tell me about your day.”

“Nothing too terribly noteworthy,” the teen said. “Oh, though my boss is really cool. She said it was okay to tell people who hit on me that I'm seventeen so they stop. She actually encouraged it when she was working the till next to mine. Said it herself once. She liked seeing people's horrified reactions a bit too much, but she's just playful.”

“Sounds like you like it so far.”

“I do,” the teen said with a happy little sigh. “Now, how about we order that pizza and see how many times we can both get off before it gets here?” Gravescour cooed, grinding himself down on the older man's lap.

“That sounds great,” Ratchet groaned, reaching for his phone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor warning for misgendering this chapter.

“Ugh, what is with you all today?” Starscream asked as he watched his squad run an obstacle course in their full gear. Everyone seemed a bit sluggish. “Fall in!” he called, huffing out an irritated sound as they tried and failed to hustle. “You all look terrible.” He received muttering in response. “Did you eat breakfast? Have you been staying up all night? Whatever it is, fix it,” he demanded. “However.” He let his voice soften enough that he didn't sound hateful, “I am allowed to give you all _one_ day off at my discretion. This is that one day. Make the most of it. You all are dismissed.” As they started to walk away, Starscream called, “Except you, Riot. Come here.”

Bumblebee, who had been walking away with Bluestreak and Riot in tow, looked uncomfortable, but said nothing.

“Yessir?” Riot asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

Starscream looked at the retreating recruits over his shoulder until they were out of earshot. “You look a little overheated, young man,” he practically purred.

“A- a, uh, little, sir,” the dark-skinned teen said, a different kind of heat rising in him as his superior stared down at him.

“How about we cool off, then?”

“How would you recommend, sir?” Riot asked, keeping his eyes toward the ground.

“Come with me and I'll show you,” came the older man's lascivious purr.

Riot eagerly followed his commanding officer in the opposite direction that his squadmates had gone. He glanced around, fearful that someone would see his pants tenting. But there was no one. Just a truck that Starscream climbed into the driver's side of, ordering the teen into the passenger seat.

“We're going to go up the mountain a little ways, where it is cooler, and we can be alone,” the older man explained as he started up the truck. As they drove, Starscream glanced over, noticing Riot's bulging pants. He smirked. “So horny already, are you?”

“S-shit. Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, covering himself.

Starscream scoffed. “Please, I'm flattered,” he dismissed easily. “I'd ask if you're feeling cooler now, but I'm guessing the answer is 'no',” he teased.

Riot couldn't answer, only blush and try not to rub his dick.

Finding a secluded little place, Starscream parked. “Go get in the bed of the truck, you little exhibitionist. I'll be there in a minute.”

Riot did as told, and leaned his back against the cab awkwardly as he waited. He stroked himself through the thick fabric a few times, bucking his hips against his hand by the time the silver-haired man joined him.

“I can't believe just sitting you here makes you so horny,” he teased as he crawled up into the bed. “Let me behind you,” he ordered. With a little help from the younger man, he shimmied behind him, his long legs splayed out on either side of the thicker body. “I want you to take your pants and boots off entirely. In fact, I want you naked. I want to put your horny, slutty little body on display for the whole world.”

Riot trembled. Starscream actually had to help him get started with undressing. It took some careful maneuvering, but soon, Riot's clothes were tossed beside the wheel well, and he lay back against the older man. Starscream gave the younger man's dick a few firm strokes, but quickly abandoned it in favor of moving lower.

“Your pussy is so fucking wet already,” he marveled, shoving two fingers knuckle-deep in the moist passage. Riot tried not to squirm. It became increasingly difficult as Starscream kept talking; “It seems like you want the whole world to see your horny pussy getting fingered. Maybe you should have been a porn star instead of joining the military. You could do this on camera and have thousands of men beat their dicks while dreaming about fucking your pussy.” The finger treatment grew rough, and all Riot could do was moan, fingers clenched in Starscream's fatigues. “I'm still convinced that you want someone to catch you here.” Starscream tweaked a peaked nipple with his other hand, making the teen's insides squeeze his fingers. “I bet, if two drill instructors drove by right now, you'd fucking come all over my hand.”

Riot made no move to deny it.

“I bet you'd be ready to come again as they both got out of their trucks and walked over. Oh, yes,” he cooed, curling his fingers hard. “But, instead of being yelled at like you expect, they're taking their dicks out of their pants and stroking them, eyes locked on your dripping wet, horny pussy. They agree to keep this quiet if they can fuck you. Do you let them?”

“Yes!” Riot gasped, humping the long fingers hard.

“Good answer,” Starscream said, taking his fingers out.

Riot was confused at the loss. The older man had said the answer was good, and yet he wasn't being stimulated further. The platinum blonde seemed to be struggling with his pocket for a moment. “Let's move down to the tailgate so you can give the horny men your needy pussy,” Starscream instructed, giving the teen a little push.

Riot shimmied down and let the other position him. It would be perfect to get fucked by someone in front of him, yet the older man remained behind. Riot's eyes shot open when he felt something at his hole that wasn't fingers. He looked down to find a pale, slender hand working a dildo into him. After the head popped in, he shoved it deep, the older man delighting in the loud groan the teen gave.

“He's pent up. He wants to nut badly,” Starscream hissed, moving the toy in and out quickly, trying to hold Riot still with his other hand. He pushed the toy in to its full, insertable length and just held it there, watching in awe as the teen gyrated his hips, pleasuring himself. Suddenly, Starscream yanked the toy out and Riot gave a loud moan of disappointment. “He already came. Your hot pussy was too much for him to handle. Maybe the next officer can do better. Hold your legs up,” he ordered.

Riot took his own thighs in hand and held them up, whimpering as he felt himself trying to clench on nothing, on display for anyone who would come by.

Starscream eased the toy in, this time taking care to thrust gently at first, building up both depth and speed. “This officer is a little more experienced, but even he won't be able to resist just fucking your sweet hole for long. He does want to see you come, though.”

Riot whined, trying to grind on the toy from the weird position he was in. Starscream picked up the pace, still talking dirty.

“He wants to see your horny pussy come. He wants to see you come all over his dick and milk that orgasm out of him.” Starscream moved his free hand, since it wasn't needed to hold the teen still anymore, down to rub the exposed clit. It only took a few passes of his fingers before Riot was crying out, his hips jerking wildly as he came. Starscream shoved the toy in and out hard. “Oh yeah, that pussy is gonna make him nut _deep_ -” He shoved it in to the full length to just hold it there. “-inside. Oh fuck yes.” When the teen gave an uncomfortable little noise, Starscream carefully eased out the dildo. He sat it aside and got out from behind the youth. He helped the boy sit up, then get to his feet on the ground. “The first officer that was in your pussy is already stroking his dick again, but it's my turn to get off,” Starscream said, spinning the teen around so he had to brace himself on the tailgate. He kicked Riot's legs apart as he freed himself from his pants. He pushed the younger man's upper body down with one hand, lining his dick up with the sopping wet hole with the other.

He shoved in with no warning, groaning as Riot's pussy quivered around him. The teen moaned into the metal of the tailgate, unable to do much else as the taller man pounded him.

Once Starscream was sure that Riot understood to stay in that position, he reached around the boy to start jerking his length just this side of rough. “They want back in your pussy, crewman,” he growled, “but it's mine right now. This fucking pussy is mine. Let them watch.”

The possessive words made Riot's body sing. He could feel another orgasm coming on, and a strange buildup he'd never experienced before. He moaned when his body seized up, his dick spurting fluids on slender fingers and the dirt between his legs. The real sensation was of his other part gushing like it never had before.

“I made you fucking squirt!” Starscream cried, elated. “I made your fucking pussy squirt. Oh, fuck,” he growled as he shoved himself deep, holding the teen still as his prick jumped and spewed. “I know you're on the pill, so your cum-hungry pussy can take my load.”

Confused by so many sensations, Riot just held on for the ride, moaning and whimpering until the older man eased back.

“Holy shit,” Starscream breathed as he leaned against the shorter man. “I made you squirt.”

The fact that he sounded so proud of himself made Riot smile. “I thought I couldn't do that,” the teen admitted quietly.

“Holy shit,” Starscream said again, beaming. He quickly helped the younger man get cleaned up and dressed again, and they shared a smoke from a box found in the glove compartment.

* * *

When Gravescour returned home, barreling through the door as he often did, he found Ratchet quickly covering himself. The “I'm home” died in his throat as the older man sat on the couch, nude but for the pillow over his lap and furiously blushing.

“W-welcome home,” the older man managed, his knees closed tightly together.

The teen kicked off his shoes and padded over, pulling his hair tie out as he went. “Couldn't wait for me?” he teased.

“W-well I- I, uh,” Ratchet stammered, failing to make eye-contact. “You're home early,” he finally settled on.

Gravescour started to unbutton his shirt. “Yeah, the boss lady wanted to close up early tonight,” he explained, dropping the blue fabric on the coffee table. He stood before the nude man only in black slacks and a tank top. “Dunno why you're doing that,” he started teasing again, “You have me now. But,” he drew out the word, “since you were already getting busy with yourself, why don't you let me see what you were doing?”

Ratchet made a displeased noise and turned his head away.

“Is something wrong?” Gravescour asked, taking a careful seat on the table before his partner.

“No!” Ratchet said, just a little too quickly. “I was just- well- ah, dammit all,” he said before tossing the pillow aside and spreading his legs. He put his hand back where it had been when the teen barged in: two fingers buried deep between swollen folds.

“Oh,” the raven-haired teen said softly.

As he started fingering himself again, Ratchet explained; “I really thought you'd want to be on top, with everything you've been through, so I got myself all geared up for it. This is how I thought about you most of the time. But now that I know you prefer to be on the receiving end, I still need to do somethin' to get the itch to die down.” His face was bright red, the blush traveling down his chest. A towel laid over the edge of the sofa underneath the man's spread legs.

“Oh,” Gravescour said again, watching two thick fingers roughly fuck the already abused-looking hole. The teen swallowed thickly before he could speak again. “Why didn't you just ask? Did you really think I'd just not fuck your horny pussy if you shoved it in my face?” He got to his knees in front of the other to get a better view. “It looks like you've been going at yourself for a while,” he cooed, lifting a hand to rub his fingers over the puffy skin, doing his best not to disturb the motions of his lover's hand.

“Yeah,” Ratchet said, a hint of misery edging in on his voice. “I've been so needy down here lately.” His hips moved of their own accord. “Frankly, it's kind of annoying,” he added, muttering. He jumped at slender hands on his thighs, spreading them farther apart.

“Oh, Ratchet, all you need to do is ask,” the younger man said, watching for a moment longer. He leaned forward to flick his tongue over the swollen clit his lover had clearly been playing with before he got home. Ratchet made quiet sounds of pleasure as the talented tongue battered the sensitive nub.

“Gravescour,” Ratchet groaned. “Will- will you fuck me?” he finally managed.

“Right here? Right now?” the teen asked, his breath on the cluster of nerves making Ratchet's hole bear down on his fingers.

“Please? Ah- I've been thinking about it for quite some time.” He made an irritated noise when the younger man stood. The sound died in his throat when he realized the other was stripping. He eyed the teen's length hungrily as he stroked himself, Ratchet's fingers working himself harder at the sight.

“I can tell you're good and wet, but I think a little extra lubricant never hurts,” Gravescour said, stepping up to the side of the couch. He put a hand in white locks and guided the man's mouth to his dick. The way Ratchet moaned and drooled around his prick had the teen thrusting, unable not to in the face of his older partner's enthusiasm. Before long he had to pull back. Ratchet's whine made him throb. “Hey, I can't come in your mouth if you want me hard to fuck your pussy,” the teen scolded.

“Since when do you talk dirty like this?”

“Do you not like it?”

“No, I fucking love it. Damn, I'm probably gonna come on your dick the second you shove it inside me,” he growled, bringing one leg up on the couch to spread himself even farther. As little as he wanted to stop touching himself, he slid his fingers out. He spread the puffy skin wide open so that the teen would get a good look at the way his hole clenched on nothing, desperate to have something inside it. “Please,” Ratchet said softly, “fuck me?”

“I doubt I'll last very long,” Gravescour admitted, finding spots for his kenes on the edge of the couch.

“I won't either, it's okay.”

“If you don't come before I do, I'll eat you out until you do,” the teen promised as he eased himself inside. He was immediately overwhelmed with sensation, Ratchet's hole quivering as it accepted him.

“Fuck,” the older man bit out, his head falling back against the couch. “Will you eat your cum out of me?”

“If that's what you want,” Gravescour growled, bracing himself on Ratchet's thighs to fuck the thicker man harder.

“Then kiss me? Make me taste it?” the older man asked, his eyes barely slits. He pinched and rolled one of his own nipples, his passage twitching with every move.

“Fuck, are you trying to make me come in record time?” the teen hissed. Ratchet only gave a sigh of pleasure in response, jerking his hips back to meet every thrust. “Ratchet, fuck,” he moaned, losing his rhythm. He snapped his hips roughly, watching his length spread the leaking hole every time he pushed in. “I'm gonna come. I'm gonna fill your pussy with cum,” Gravescour groaned.

“Push it in deep,” Ratchet begged. “I wanna feel it leaking out of me all night.”

After a few more sharp thrusts, Gravescour slid his knees forward under the older man's thighs to bury himself to the hilt. He gave a pathetic groan that was half whine as he came, barely able to watch Ratchet shiver as the length pulsed inside him. Ratchet made a noise of discontent when Gravescour pulled out. The teen stroked his length, smearing what oozed out over the older man's drenched folds.

“Don't whine,” the teen said, his voice a bit husky. “I'm gonna eat it out of you,” he promised, standing from where he'd been kneeling only to get to his knees again and bury his face in the sloppy hole.

Ratchet barely kept himself from thrashing as the tongue probed deep inside before retreating to flick his clit a few times, then returned to trying to lick the seed out of him. The older man whined when it started to ooze from him. He wanted to keep it inside and he clenched as such, but only succeeded in making it leak faster, dribbling down his partner's chin. After a couple of minutes, the teen pulled back, the lower half of his face covered in both of their fluids.

“My dick is hard again,” he growled.

“Then fuck me!” Ratchet demanded, bringing one hand in front of himself to rub furiously at his clit. “And kiss me! I want to come on your dick with the taste of your cum and my own fucking pussy in my mouth!”

Gravescour throbbed all over. He wasted no time shoving back in, deep and hard. Ratchet wrapped his large hand around the back of his lover's head and brought their mouths together, tongue inside the teen's mouth before their lips even met. Ratchet moaned, loud, as he shoved back against the slender body, practically riding the prick inside him. He dragged his tongue over the teen's lips and chin and jaw messily as the teen just held on and tried to thrust.

“I'm gonna come,” he said, his clit-rubbing audible between them. “Gravescour, I'm gonna fucking come on your dick.”

“Let me see it,” Gravescour managed.

The meaty hand in raven locks moved down to a slender shoulder to cling. Ratchet cried out as his hips started to jerk violently, his hole spasming around his partner's straining length. “Come in me, come in me, I want more of your cum in my pussy,” the older man babbled as his lower body jerked wildly.

Gravescour couldn't say a word as he ground against the squirming body, finding that last push over the edge in the way the older man whined.

“Oh, god yes,” Ratchet moaned at the sensation of a second flood of semen that evening.

“Fucking fill you with it,” Gravescour mumbled, his hips jerking weakly as he rode out the feeling. Ratchet played with his own clit roughly, making his insides spasm to milk every drop from the teen. He whined pathetically when Gravescour gasped and pulled out. “Sorry, oversensitive,” he said quickly.

“It's alright,” Ratchet managed after a moment, rubbing his fingers over the tender, puffy skin. With a great and relieved sigh, he wiped his hand on the towel. “I needed that,” he admitted. He laughed weakly and Gravescour joined in. Soon they were giggling and sharing quick kisses between chuckles.

“Wanna shower while I make dinner?”

“Or, you could join me in the shower, then I'll help you make dinner,” Ratchet counter-offered.

“If I get in that tub with you, we'll be up all night,” the teen said with a slight pout.

“Tomorrow is Tuesday, so it hardly matters. Besides, you got dirty, too. Not that I really want you to wash off your coffee and cookie smell, but,” he trailed off, holding out his cleaner hand for the younger man to help him up.

“Fine,” Gravescour grunted as he pulled Ratchet up. “But we get a real shower real quick. I'm actually hungry.”

“I can live with that if I can wash your hair.”

Gravescour grumbled to himself, knowing the sounds he'd make from the older man massaging his scalp would turn him on, and they'd still wind up in the shower all night. He went anyway.

* * *

  
  


On the ride back to base, Riot couldn't help but ask; “So, um... where'd you get that dildo?”

“I dunno, some sex store in the southern county?” Starscream answered.

“I- I meant why do you have it _here_?”

“Oh,” Starscream said, his face heating as he looked ahead.

“Do you, um, use it on yourself?”

“Well, I sure as hell don't use it as a paperweight,” the older man teased.

“We're allowed to have that kind of thing?”

“ _You're_ not, but _I_ am,” Starscream said, smirking.

“Well, okay then,” the teen muttered, his voice the very sound of defeat. The older man's warm chuckle eased his embarrassment a bit. “So, uh, what'd ya do for fun back home?”

Starscream glanced at the other out of the corner of his eye. “That's quite the personal question, don't you think?”

“S-sorry,” Riot said quickly. “I was just trying to make small talk.”

“It's fine. I'm mostly messing with you anyway. Mostly,” Starscream reiterated. “I just build model airplanes and drink. Not at the same time, of course.”

“Really?!” the younger man asked excitedly. “Me too! Uh, just without the drinking part.”

Once more, Starscream chuckled. He parked the truck and got out, taking the toy he'd used, but leaving the keys and cigarettes.

“Leave the keys, take the dildo?” Riot asked, grinning.

“What?”

“O-oh, uh, nothing. Just a pop culture reference,” the teen muttered.

“Oh!” Starscream said, suddenly remembering the movie the teen mentioned. “Yes, something like that,” he said with a chuckle. “You go enjoy the rest of your day off now. I'm sure Bumblebee and Bluestreak are wondering where the hell you are.”

“Yes sir!” Riot said with a salute.

Starscream couldn't help but roll his eyes, even though he was smiling.

* * *

Home from the recruitment office, Megatron swiped through the pictures on his phone. Starscream hadn't snuck him any naughty photos in three days, and he was bored of the ones he had. He figured his partner wouldn't send him anymore any time soon, so he got up off the couch and slicked back his hair. His phone silenced and tucked into his pocket, he headed out to the bar.

* * *

Ratchet woke to a sudden weight on his stomach, giving an “oof” as he opened his eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. He blinked a few times before he remembered that he and Gravescour were in a hotel room, and it was the day of Riot's graduation ceremony. The raven-haired teen, already showered and dressed, stared down at him, bouncing a little.

“Get up, sleepyhead!” he cooed.

“I'm up, I'm up,” Ratchet groused sitting up as the teen slid off of him. “Tell me why we're getting up at the asscrack of dawn when the ceremony doesn't start until one again.”

“We. Need. Breakfast,” the teen said, each word punctuated by a little bounce. “And I don't wanna miss a thing. Not even any of that boring shit at the beginning. The sooner I see my best friend, the better.”

Ratchet didn't want to smile, with barely any light coming in through the window, but he couldn't help it. The teen's enthusiasm was infectious. “Can we get some light in here, then?” he asked, not wanting to navigate the room by the sliver of light coming from the mostly-closed bathroom door. “Maybe some coffee, too,” he grumbled.

“Sure.” And with that, the room was flooded with light, making the older man shield his eyes. “Go get a shower, and I'll run and grab us some coffee from the lobby.”

“Yes sir,” Ratchet said with an amused snort.

An hour later, the fair-skinned teen had managed to coordinate with everyone in attendance for Riot, and had gathered them all at one large table at a local all-night diner. Arcee was the first to greet the couple as they entered the restaurant.

“I'm surprised to see you awake this early, Ratchet!” she said.

“Blame him,” the older man groused as he pulled out the chair next to hers, vaguely gesturing toward Gravescour.

“Looks like he's been good for you, then,” she said, patting his shoulder. The teen sat between Ratchet and Thrush.

“You gonna introduce me to your friend?” Riot's father asked, looking at the white-haired man.

“You met Ratchet at the bar on my eighteenth,” the teen said, raising a brow.

Thrush blinked. “Okay, so, in my defense, I was really drunk. The only reason I remembered Optimus was because he gave me his number,” the man trailed off.

Arcee barked out a laugh which only grew louder as the mentioned bluenette started turning red in the face.

Gravescour snorted. “Alright, so, this is Ratchet, my partner,” the teen said, gesturing to the white-haired man, “And this is Arcee-”

“Partner?” Thrush asked incredulously.

“Yeah?”

“You're only eighteen.”

“And that's all that matters!” the teen cheered, smiling brightly as Ratchet hid his face in his hands, ignoring the supposedly soothing hand on his shoulder from Arcee. He abruptly changed the subject, “Riot never said his sister got so pretty,” the goth teen teased.

“You shut up,” she teased back. “Don't be flirting with girls in front of your man.”

“He's not wrong,” Ratchet agreed.

“You better not be giving my kids an old man fetish,” Thrush grumbled, ignoring the way the others grinned at him.

“Oops,” Gravescour said, a questioning lilt to his voice as he shrugged.

Thrush took a turn at hiding his face as chuckles rose up around the table.

They ate, making small talk. Afterward, they explored the city for a couple hours before heading out to the stands to grab their seats before the crowds got there. As it turned out, many other families had the same idea. They still managed to get seats in the front row, though they were one of the last groups able to do so. Little to their knowledge, Megatron sat at the back of the bleachers, other early entrants avoiding him at all costs.

When the festivities began, Gravescour grabbed Ratchet's hand, much to the delight of the ladies, and to Thrush's disappointment. But the brunette quickly forgot about his psuedo-son's questionable relationships when the loudspeakers fired up with the announcement of the members of the graduating class. With such a small class, each name was given along with a brief pause for their friends and family to cheer while everyone else clapped.

When Riot's name was called, Ratchet thought he might go deaf. He'd worked right next to running plane engines that had been known to cause temporary deafness, but those didn't compare to the sound of the usually-so-quiet teen screeching for his best friend. Arcee and Meld joined in the screeching, and Thrush and Optimus hooted. Ratchet couldn't help but smile and join in the hooting himself. Meld smacked Gravescour's arm and pointed out how her baby brother was blushing as he stepped back in the line.

Still abuzz with energy, the group waited impatiently for the proceedings to conclude. Optimus and Thrush smiled fondly as they remembered their own final drills at their graduation ceremonies, and both Meld and Ratchet shared an amused chuckle at the way Gravescour marveled over the short air show performed by the elite of the recent flight school graduates.

When everyone was dismissed to reunite with their loved ones, Meld and Gravescour ran off ahead of their older companions. When they found Riot, they tackled him to the ground, startling reuniting families around them.

“'Scour! Meld!” the white-haired teen gasped. He drew them both into tight hugs, one in each arm as they were still on the ground.

“I felt bad for not being at your high school graduation, so I had to be here. I miss you, kid,” she said, ruffling his hair. He swatted her hand away, though he was smiling.

Gravescour hopped to his feet and hauled Riot up. “Man, you've gotten bigger,” the dark-haired teen marveled.

Riot fought the urge to flex. Instead, he helped his sister up, only to be hugged from behind and lifted off his feet by his father.

“There's my little officer!” the man said, spinning Riot.

The white-haired teen caught glimpses of Arcee, Optimus, and Ratchet while he was being spun, laughing. When the brunette put the teen down, the others all shook his hand. The veterans being there attracted the attention of some of the drill instructors, who wandered over to shake hands and make small talk, inviting everyone to a gathering later at a ballroom reserved in a local convention hall.

Thrush was asked by one of the men who he was there to support and he doted on Riot. Though, he'd made a mistake. “I'm so proud of her.”

“Her?” the man asked, thinking that he'd gotten someone's students' names mixed up.

“Him! I meant him! I'm so sorry,” he said, catching a glimpse of Riot's crestfallen face out of the corner of his eye. “My daughter, who I almost never see, came with me today, and it's got me all messed up!”

“Hey, don't use me as an excuse!” the young woman said, holding her hands up. Gravescour put a comforting arm around his friend as Meld continued; “You done fucked up. Just say you did and that you're sorry and move on.”

“I fucked up,” Thrush said, his eyes downcast. “I'm sorry.”

“Watch your profanity,” an older black man that seemed to know Optimus interjected, making the younger members of the group chuckle.

“I'm sorry,” Thrush repeated, his face reddening. “Forgive me?” he asked, casting a hopeful glance at his son.

“If you buy me a huge order of fries, yes,” the teen said, sticking out his tongue to hide his nervousness.

“I will buy you all the fries,” Thrush promised.

“Then I forgive you. This time,” he said, making an 'I'm watching you' gesture with two fingers. “I have to go pick up my personal effects in half an hour, then we can go have a junk food feast!” he cheered.

“We'll wait for you in the parking lot,” Thrush said. “Just make sure to let me know where you want to get those fries from.”

“Yes sir!”

Riot walked into the room he knew too well from all those evenings spent earning the use of his phone and just visiting Starscream. The older man gave him something of a smile when he approached.

“Congratulations,” Starscream said, handing back his keys. He still held Riot's phone.

“Sir?” the teen asked when it wasn't handed back right away.

“Just a moment,” the slender man said. He tapped a few keys, then handed the device over. “You have my number now,” he said, and it sounded at once menacing and thrilling. “Don't misuse it.”

“Yes, sir!” the white-haired teen said, giving a slight bow.

“I'll see you at the gathering later, won't I?”

“Yes, sir. I'll be there as soon as I get some fries in me,” Riot said with a firm nod.

Starscream laughed. “Fries do sound good,” he said to himself. “Well, once more, congratulations. I hope to see you in my flight class in the fall.”

“I- I hope to have you as my instructor, too, sir. Take care, sir.”

At the restaurant Riot chose, both he and Ratchet scarfed down fries like men starved. Everyone understood Riot's behavior, but couldn't quite figure out why the older man was acting that way.

“You alright there, Ratchet?” Arcee asked.

He looked up to find her and Optimus giving him concerned stares. “Look,” he said, once he swallowed the mouthful, “He,” and he pointed accusingly at Gravescour, “cooks for me all the time now, and most of it is healthy food. I only have junk once a week or so. So, I'm gonna eat all of this grease, and probably whatever he doesn't eat.”

“I might eat all of this,” the goth teen said. “I got a small.”

“I have noticed you two have both looked healthier lately,” Optimus noted. “I am happy for the two of you.”

“You have gained weight,” Riot cheered between bites of a greasy cheeseburger. “I just hope you've still been working out.”

“And then some,” Gravescour said, casting a devious stare in Ratchet's direction. The older man practically buried his face in his own burger. “But of course I have. You really think I was gonna let you come back all buff and gorgeous and let you show me up?”

“Bitch, I've always been gorgeous,” Riot said, playfully flipping his hair.

Thrush felt mildly uncomfortable, but he let everyone eat and make small talk, contending himself with having both of his children with him for the first time in many years.

At the mixer, Riot immediately dragged Gravescour and Ratchet off to find Starscream. However, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who had his arm around those slender shoulders. The champagne flute looked comedic in Megatron's massive mitt.

“Well, I guess we're not gonna see Starscream for a bit,” Riot muttered. It was just his luck that Starscream noticed him and the meaty brunette followed his gaze.

“Riot,” the bigger man bellowed happily. “Gravescour, Ratchet, join us,” he called out.

The goth teen's gaze instantly turned steely, and Riot hesitated. Both jumped at Ratchet's hands gently laid on their backs. “He'll behave in public. Let's just get this over with.” Ratchet urged them both over.

“So, you're the esteemed student I've heard so much about,” he said. “I'm so happy to have been the one that recruited you,” he gave with a malicious grin.

“I'm glad I joined, sir,” Riot said. “Having Starscream as an instructor was an invaluable experience.”

Starscream brightened at the praise, managing to stand up straight even under the weight of Megatron's arm. That seemed to irritate the older man.

“Ratchet, it has been some time,” Megatron changed the subject. “How have you been?”

“I've been fantastic, actually,” he said, his hand still on Gravescour's lower back. “Got a partner, been eating better, getting out more. Gotta say, I feel like I'm a young man again.”

“Starscream, why don't you show the young men where they can get a soda? I want to catch up with Ratchet,” Megatron said, giving him a little push.

“Uh- yeah, sure,” the silver-haired man said, happy to get away.

Once they were out of earshot, Megatron taunted Ratchet; “My sloppy seconds, really?”

“You had to pay for it. He and I have a real relationship, unlike whatever you call what you have with Starscream,” Ratchet shot back.

Megatron grit his teeth. “You don't think your brat is just after your money?”

“Wouldn't matter if he was. I have plenty to spare.”

“You really think a cute little thing like that wants anything else from an old codger like you?”

“Maybe you'd find out what else a relationship holds if you actually tried some romance for once.”

Megatron bared his teeth, but kept his tone light; “I have a romantic relationship. Eleven years strong, thank you.”

“It's eleven years of abuse if you ask me,” Ratchet said out of the corner of his mouth.

“But Starscream says differently, doesn't he?” Megatron preened.

“Only because you make him.”

“Well, it's been lovely catching up, but isn't it past your bedtime, Ratchet?”

“Nah, Gravescour keeps me up all night these days,” Ratchet said with a smirk.

“I see how green your eyes are,” Megatron hissed lowly. “Have you been doping again? Having trouble keeping it up, even for a pretty little barely-legal?”

“At least I waited until he was legal,” Ratchet shot back. “But I reckon I ought to go congratulate Riot again. From what I heard, he did save your so-called significant other's life.” He couldn't help but grin at Megatron's flat expression. “Have a good evening,” he taunted, waving as he walked off. He found the younger men holed up in the corner of the room.

Gravescour and Riot had sodas in their hands, Starscream had a champagne flute. The three were talking about the air show to calm their nerves. Ratchet snatched the drink from the younger man and downed it.

“Hey!” he screeched.

“I'll get you another one,” Ratchet said. “That man is a real piece of work.”

Starscream said nothing for a long moment. “I should probably get home,” he muttered.

“My house is always open to you, Star,” Ratchet offered.

“Thanks,” the man said. He gave Riot's shoulder a pat. “Hopefully I'll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Riot agreed, a bit confused. After watching his former drill sergeant walk away, he turned to Ratchet. “So, he lives near us?”

“Yeah,” the older man said. “His place is about a fifteen minute drive from mine.”

“So you've been there?”

“Hell no,” Ratchet said, a touch of anger making his voice. “He always comes to my place when we hang out.”

The white-haired teen couldn't quite figure out why the man in front of him was so upset about a simple question about Starscream's house, but he let it go for the time being. He wanted to find his sister and head home. He hadn't really had a chance to catch up with her yet.

“Oh! We have presents!” Gravescour said, his face lighting up.

“Presents?”

“Yeah, but you have to wait until Saturday!”

“But that's so far away,” Riot whined. Ratchet chuckled.

“That's when everyone is off work! And when we're all gonna feed you!”

“A party, then?”

“Yes sir, a party,” Thrush said as he walked up behind the teens. “We should all go back to the hotel and rest, though, since we have such a long drive ahead of us home.”

Riot groaned. “You're right. Shit, we might not get home until Saturday,” the teen whined.

“Okay, it's not that long of a drive,” Thrush grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “Besides, if you get bummed out during the drive, you can just think of all the friends, food and presents you'll get on Saturday.”

Riot smiled brightly, throwing an arm around Gravescour's shoulders. He looked up at his dad. “Can I invite 'Bee, Bluestreak and Starscream, too?”

Thrush chuckled. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits appreciated.


	15. Chapter 15

A few days later, Starscream would turn up at Ratchet's place with a bottle of whiskey and an apologetic smile. Gravescour was a little bit miffed that he couldn't call Riot over, since it was Meld's last day with the family before she went back home, over eight hours away by car. He did however, fire off a text to his friend, letting the other know that his crush could be texted at his convenience. When Gravescour asked if he could put a little whiskey in his soda, but was denied, he pouted. Ratchet soothed the pout away with a kiss, and Gravescour ran off to their room to read while the men got caught up. They hadn't just had a friendly drink in ages.

Starscream was still a bit upset over his last fight with Megatron, but sleeping on Arcee's couch had been a blessing. She let him drink and vent without judgment. They spent the weekend working out and playing CreCo together. She even offered to pay for a hotel room for him so she could get some sleep, unable to do so well with another person in her tiny apartment. He declined, saying he'd pay for one himself after he went to see Ratchet. The older man was proud of Starscream, when he told the tale of his leaving this time, and once more offered his spare room. The two mixed their whiskey with whatever cola-flavored beverage they found in Ratchet's refrigerator, and reclined in the living room to chat.

They talked first about Starscream's work. The slender man rambled on about each student individually, giving special attention to the three that actually seemed to like him. Ratchet enjoyed seeing Starscream's eyes sparkle, talking about something he loved. When the younger man caught the goofy grin on the blue-green-eyed man's face, Starscream blushed.

“S-so, how's partial retirement treating you?”

“It's great, actually,” Ratchet said with a happy little sigh. “I've been spending a lot of time with Gravescour, and we've been getting the backyard fixed up. We're probably going to plant a garden. We've been talking about it, anyway.”

“That's nice,” Starscream said, pouring himself his third drink. “Are there kids in your future?”

Ratchet coughed, choking on the drink he'd accidentally inhaled. “Primus,” the older man whispered before clearing his throat. “Absolutely not, Star. He's eighteen, and I'm fifty. I'm too old and he's too young.”

Starscream shrugged, already tipsy. “He's eighteen. He's not too young.”

“He needs to go to college or have a career for a while before we even talk about that. And how did we get from my retirement to this?” he asked, downing the rest of his glass to hide his embarrassment. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Starscream asked, grinning at his friend.

“You seemed to take a shine to Riot. Are you gonna leave Megatron for him?”

“O-oh, l-leave Megatron?” Starscream put a slender finger to his lips as he thought. “I think he'd be really mad if I traded him in for a younger model.”

Ratchet barked out a laugh in response. He had to put down the bottle he'd been holding, about to pour himself another glass, to hold his stomach with how hard he'd laughed. “All the more reason to do it! Riot's a good ki- young man. Gravescour has told me a lot about him. He'll treat you right.”

“I don't know if I'm going to leave Megatron, honestly,” Starscream muttered into his drink, already halfway through it. “I'm gonna give him one more chance, if he ever texts me, that is.”

“C'mon, Star. Just get rid of him. He's abused you, he hurt Gravescour and Riot, too. Who knows how many other people he's hurt, cheated on you with?”

“What did he do to Riot?” Starscream asked, his eyes wide.

“Ah shit,” Ratchet said, getting up from the couch to get a beer since Starscream had taken the bottle to top off his glass. “Nothing, forget I said that.”

After pouring himself a new drink, the younger man called out; “No, tell me! What the hell did you mean?”

“It's nothing!” the white-haired man said from the refrigerator. He closed it and walked back to the couch, beer in hand.

“I deserve to know, especially if you think I should leave Megatron for him!” Starscream said, holding his drink with his knees to be able to cross his arms.

“Star-”

“Tell me!”

“Ah shit. Well, ah, Megatron hurt Riot in a similar way to how he hurt Gravescour.”

“He what?”

“You- you heard me,” the older man said, cracking into his beer.

“So he fucked Megatron, too?!”

When Starscream first started raising his voice, Gravescour had marked the page in his book and set it aside on the bedside stand. He sat there awkwardly for a long moment, trying to figure out if the voices were jovial, or if they were arguing.

“I'm gonna fucking text this S.O.B.” Starscream said, pulling out his phone. He fired off a few, generic angry texts at Riot:

_ How could you!? _

_ Why didn't ypu tell me? _

_ An I a joke to you? _

He was about to send another one when Ratchet snatched his phone from his hands. “Now, look here. You stop this,” he said, holding Starscream back with his free arm when the younger man reached for the phone.

“Give me my goddamn phone back!”

The shout had Gravescour coming down the hall. He stopped at the end of the hall to watch pensively.

“Damnit, Star! Don't ya know you're not supposed to text people while you're drunk? Especially not potential love interests!”

“How the hell is he a love interest when he fucked my boyfriend?!” Starscream demanded, almost able to reach his phone. “Even if I hate his guts most of the time, he's still my man!”

The phone dinged with texts, but neither could read them, playing keep-away with the device.

“You know how he is, Star. If he wants to fuck someone, he will. Riot is young and naive. He's barely older than you were when Megatron did that to you,” Ratchet reasoned.

The phone rang, and all three of them just stared at it. Starscream tried even harder to get it when Ratchet was momentarily distracted, noticing Gravescour silently watching. He only succeeded in answering the call, but not getting a hold of the phone.

“Star, you need to calm down,” Ratchet said, giving him a gentle push to his chest, sitting him back in the armchair the slender man always sat in. “Hun, come take this,” he asked, holding out the phone to the teen.

Upon seeing that someone was on the line, Gravescour put the device to his ear. “Hello?”

“What the hell is going on?!” Riot demanded. “What did I do? Why do you have Starscream's phone?”

“Uh,” was all the goth teen could manage for a long moment, watching Ratchet hold the younger man by the shoulders, quietly talking him down. “Ratchet and Starscream got drunk.”

“Okay, that answers one question,” Riot said. He was clearly frustrated.

“One sec.” The youngest covered the receiver. “I'm going to make you two coffee. You seem like you need it.” He uncovered the receiver, walking to the kitchen. “Starscream is pretty upset.”

“I can tell from the texts. What is he mad about? The only thing I can think of that could make him that mad is the thing with Megatron. Why would you tell him that?”

“I didn't!” Gravescour defending, filling the water for the coffee. “I've been in Ratchet's room reading all night, since they won't let me drink with them.” He thought for a moment. “Oh fuck,” he muttered.

“What?” Riot demanded.

“I, um, I- after Megatron-” He paused to swallow, clear his throat, “After he hurt me that one night, I felt like trash and told Ratchet everything.”

The older teen was silent for nearly a minute. “So, Ratchet got drunk and let it slip?”

“I think so.”

Riot sighed. “Goddamnit. What do I do?”

“I think... you should wait until he sobers up and talk to him.”

“When do you think that will be?”

“I'm making them coffee right now, so it shouldn't be too long. I'll text you to keep you updated. I'm gonna take them coffee when it's done.”

“Alright, damn. Fuck. Shit. Please text me frequently. I'm gonna be worried as shit.”

“Everything is gonna be okay,” Gravescour promised.

“I wish I had your confidence. Alright, bye.” He hung up.

Gravescour put Starscream's phone in his unoccupied pocket and set to pouring two cups of coffee, both with the condiments that he knew the older men preferred. He handed Ratchet his first, since he was closer, and the older man took it happily, remaining seated on the floor in front of Starscream. The teen handed the slender man his coffee, getting a surprised look and a muttered “thanks” in response. The silver-haired man looked into the cup sadly.

“Drink it, Star,” Ratchet urged softly. “We're both a bit too out of it for this.”

Gravescour headed back to the kitchen to grab himself his own cup, intent on sitting with the others until Starscream gave Riot a call. When he returned and plopped down on the floor next to Ratchet, the silver-haired man muttered a thank you for the coffee, almost whispering that he couldn't believe the boy had remembered how he liked it.

“Believe it or not, we all pay attention to the things you like,” the teen said with an awkward half-smile. “I know that you prefer custard on your pancakes instead of syrup, too.”

Ratchet chimed in, “And that you prefer vodka and lemonade, but switched to whiskey because that's what Megatron likes.”

“You like it, too,” Starscream defended meekly.

“I do, but I'm fine with vodka and lemonade. Hell, I'm fine with plain old beer.”

“Riot even knows your favorite kind of pizza already, and you've hardly given him a chance to get to know you,” Gravescour said over the rim of his cup.

Starscream's face reddened and he looked away. “I don't know what to do,” he admitted.

“No one does, Star. But that's why we have to be responsible adults and talk about things,” Ratchet said, putting a hand on his friend's knee. “Riot didn't know you even existed back then, so you can't blame him for Megatron's misdoings.”

“I see that now,” Starscream said, stressing the last word. “But I already fucked that up.”

“No you didn't,” Gravescour interjected. “He's not mad, he's just worried. He's terrified that you're going to hate him. “You also can't say he didn't tell you, because he just found out you and Megatron are supposedly a thing less than a week ago. I just told him when we were out on the ranch.”

Red eyes blinked. “You mean you didn't tell him right after I- I slapped you?”

The goth teen shook his head. “I figured that was your place,” he said, then frowned. “But when he talked about you last week, he sounded pretty serious, so I thought he had the right to know what he was up against.”

“Serious?” Starscream asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“He really likes you. I've never seen him like this over someone who isn't a celebrity.” The slender man's blush grew, and the men on the floor couldn't help but notice Starscream's posture change the slightest bit. He seemed almost proud. The men hid their smirks behind their cups.

“That's why you should drink your coffee and sober up so you can call him and tell him everything he needs to know. You shouldn't lead him on, Star,” Ratchet said, firmly but gently.

“I know. Damnit, I know,” the younger man said miserably. “But I don't know what I'm gonna do. Can I really just throw away an eleven year relationship for an eighteen-year-old?”

“Yes,” both of the others said.

Starscream would have laughed if it hadn't been such a serious situation.

Ratchet continued; “It's eleven years of abuse, Star. He may have loved you at some point, but he's always been a controlling bastard, and that love gave way to his fancy.”

“I know Riot,” Gravescour said, “and he won't hurt you like that. He's a little shy himself. He sometimes has trouble saying what food he wants if there's a stronger personality in the room. He might get angry, but everyone does. He'll never hit you. Even if things don't work out between you two, he's seen how Megatron is, and I'm sure he'll want to help you get away from that. We all do.”

“You know that you can stay here,” Ratchet added.

“I might- I might stay for a few days, if that's okay,” Starscream mumbled.

“Stay for a few years if you need to,” Ratchet offered.

“Just don't be freaked out by the sex noises,” Gravescour teased.

Ratchet, at least, had the decency to blush.

“Ah, I don't- um-” Starscream sputtered awkwardly. Gravescour giggled. “I don't think I need to know about your sex lives.”

“Well, get some noise-canceling headphones, then,” the teen teased again.

“We're not that loud,” Ratchet muttered, covering his face with his free hand.

Laughing, Gravescour changed the subject; “Should I make us something to eat? If you drank on an empty stomach, you're gonna regret it.”

“Oh, uh, sure?” Starscream asked.

Gravescour stood. “What do you want?”

“Uh, a hamburger?” the slender man asked.

“Hamburgers sound good. Do we have meat?” Ratchet asked.

“We should,” the teen supplied. “If not, I can grind up whatever meat we have until it's the consistency of hamburgers.” Starscream and Ratchet looked horrified. “What? Haven't you ever had a turkey burger?” He rolled his eyes and headed off to the kitchen.

“What do you want on your burgers?” Gravescour called from the kitchen.

“Everything,” was Ratchet's response.

“Starscream?” Gravescour asked, but the slender man stammered. The teen poked his head around the corner with a raised brow.

“Um, w-what comes standard?” the silver-haired man asked, looking everywhere but at the younger man.

“In this house? Everything,” he said, glaring half-heartedly at Ratchet.

“I- um- I'll take that, then.”

“You like mushrooms?”

“Yes, actually,” the slender man said.

“Okay, ten minutes on those burgers,” Gravescour said, disappearing around the corner.

“Oh, if it'll take that long, don't worry about me!” Starscream called.

“I'm already doing it for Ratchet, it'll take literally ten seconds longer to make it for you, too.”

Starscream opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but shut it quickly when Ratchet chuckled.

Ten minutes later, the older men had burgers loaded with grilled mushrooms and onions, tomatoes and every burger-related condiment the teen could find in Ratchet's refrigerator, including two kinds of cheese. Gravescour himself picked at a burger topped with cheese, using a fork instead of a bun. Starscream sobered up quickly with food in his stomach, but Ratchet opted to finish his beer and crack into another one. He wanted to at least be buzzed to deal with the fallout, if there was any, he told himself. After he finished his second cup of coffee, the slender man could no longer put off calling Riot. Gravescour handed the man's phone back, and offered to leave the room.

“Are you okay with being alone for the call?” Ratchet asked. “There's a little mom and pop ice cream place a couple streets over, so I thought we'd go get some while you talked to Riot.”

Starscream held his phone tight. “Bring me back a pint?” he asked quietly.

“Sure. What kind?” Ratchet asked.

“Anything with chocolate,” was the answer.

“Alright,” Ratchet said with a nod. “Call us if you need us and we'll come home.”

Starscream felt guilty for watching the two from the window as they walked down the street, especially as Ratchet's gait was a little unsteady, but he trusted Gravescour with his friend and figured it was time to trust himself to Gravescour's friend. He found Riot's contact info, took a deep breath and hit “call”.

“Hello?” was the small-voiced answer.

“Uh, hey,” Starscream said nervously. “I, uh, guess we both have some explaining to do, huh?”

“Yeah,” Riot said. It sounded like he was smoking a cigarette or sighing heavily every few seconds. Starscream really hoped for the former. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

“W-well, I want to apologize for my angry texts first. I'm, uh, kind of a reactionary drunk,” the slender man muttered.

“I get it,” the teen said. “I haven't been drunk enough to tell you what kind of drunk I am, but I know some people act weird when they're drunk. But, uh, maybe you should hear it from me what happened?”

“I'd appreciate that,” the older man said, heading to the kitchen to get himself another cup of coffee.

“I won't lie and say I'm totally innocent here,” Riot started. He took a deep breath. “I did find him attractive before I knew what an asshole he was. Gravescour still won't talk about what happened the last time he bought him, so it must've been bad.” There was a brief pause. “But before that all went down, Gravescour said he enjoyed it, talked about how big his dick was, how sexy his scars were... and I wanted to try it.”

Starscream blinked. He had to interrupt. “So you weren't a prostitute?”

“No.” An audible shake of his head was heard on the other end. “I guess he did think I was because he paid me, but that was only because I didn't have the internal testicles to flirt like a normal person.”

“You've been flirting with me,” the older man mumbled.

“I like you a lot!” Riot blurted. Starscream blinked again. “I mean, we haven't really had a chance to talk a lot about, like, hobbies and shit, but what we have talked about we both enjoy, and I'm rambling, but it's true.” The teen had to take a moment to breathe, spitting all of that in one breath. “And, like, I don't know. You're so cool, and I don't want to lose my chance over a misunderstanding.

“Riot...”

“I'm sorry, I'll let you talk.”

“I- I don't know what to say,” the silver-haired man admitted.

“Is there anything you want to ask?” Riot offered.

“Do you know how many times Megatron cheated on me?”

“Five, that I'm aware of,” Riot said.

“Primus. That you know of?” Starscream gave a heavy sigh. “And you didn't know he and I were supposed to be together before we started fooling around?”

“I didn't. I assumed he was single because he was hiring pros, and I assumed you were single because- yeah,” he trailed off, letting the implication sink in. “I was a little miffed to find out I was the side-ass until I heard how awful things were for you. Now I just want you to be happy,” the teen said, misery evident in his tone.

“What exactly did you hear?”

“Well, how much time you got?”

Elsewhere, Ratchet shoved another spoonful of sundae in his mouth. “I'm about to be done with this shit,” he grumbled. “Ten years of this, and he still won't leave. I'm sorry to dump all this on you, hun, but I need to get this off my chest.”

“It's fine,” Gravescour said, scooping another spoonful of ice cream out of his float. “We all need to get shit out from time to time.”

“This has been building up for over a decade,” the older man said, scooping up hot fudge from under the ice cream, eating a spoonful of just that. “I care about Starscream, I really do, but he needs to just fucking leave Megatron already. I wish I could show him how much it hurts Arcee and me every time he goes crawling back to that piece of shit. I know I sound selfish, whining about how it hurts me and all, but Primus damnit!” He stabbed his ice cream just a little too hard. “Star can't go three months without showing up at one of our places, needing a break from Megatron. Don't get me wrong,” he continued around a mouthful; “I'm happy to give Star a place to stay, if he'd  _ stay _ .” He shoved the spoon back in the cup. He looked up at a blinking teen. “You might want to tell Riot not to bother. He'll just get his little heart broken.”

Gravescour frowned. “Riot's tougher than that,” the teen said.

“I used to think I was tougher 'n that too, but here I am, losing my cool over a hot fudge sundae about it,” Ratchet groused. He scooped up another spoon of just chocolate.

“I know I'm an outsider to the whole situation, but if Riot can entice him away, wouldn't that be the best possible outcome for all parties?”

“Ideally,” Ratchet gave, “but it ain't never worked before.” He paused for a long moment. “But then again, he ain't never cheated on Megatron before. I don't know if this'll be any different, though. He's just using sex as a way to get the emotional comfort he refuses to accept from any of us. That, or it's to replace the drugs he was addicted to. Fucking human garbage, that Megatron.”

Gravescour hunched his shoulders a bit in response, remembering the way the brunette had fed him alcoholic beverages to loosen him up when he wasn't enjoying himself at the bar. He cringed before he could catch himself.

“I'm sorry,” Ratchet said, giving a lopsided frown.

Icy blue eyes widened, and the teen raised his hand in a passive gesture. “No, no,” he said, “it's okay. I'm just worried about Star, too.” He looked away and tucked his hair behind his ear before swirling his spoon in his float again. “I just don't want to imagine... if he hurt me as much as he did in a few weeks, then what he did to Star in over a decade.” His voice trailed off, his teeth bared in an awkward grimace.

Ratchet's eyes softened. He reached across the table for his partner's hand. Had he been completely sober, he would have flinched at the way terrified icy eyes snapped to the source of the sensation. “I'd say he's a grown man and he should be able to take care of himself, but he was the same age you were when they met,” the white-haired man said sadly. He took a deep breath and sighed it out through his nose. “I- I worry about doing that to you, sometimes,” he admitted, sounding pained. “I know I pushed you too hard into getting that job, but I want you to be able to leave if you get tired of me.”

Gravescour took his hand from under Ratchet's, quickly threading their fingers before the older man got the wrong idea. “I know,” he said with a small smile. “But you know I won't put up with that kind of shit. I only dealt with my mom's crazy ass because I didn't want to bounce around in the foster care system. I'm not the type to let myself be abused.”

“Yet you did what you did for a living for how many years?”

Gravescour had to take a minute to think. “Well, of my own volition, it was only four years. Not that long if you think about it.”

“But you're so young. That's such a big chunk of your life,” Ratchet moaned.

The teen huffed out a little chuckle. “It wasn't always bad. I made a couple of friends, one john gave me my favorite knife and taught me how to use it. If anything messed me up, it was how my mom treated me, not any business transactions I ever chose to be part of.”

“Still, those sick people, doing that to a child... and fucking Megatron. I bet that sick fuck knew you were seventeen when he hired you. He knew Optimus was seventeen, and he knew Starscream was sixteen,” Ratchet trailed off in a growl.

“He did, but I don't want to get into that right now,” the young man said, gently squeezing Ratchet's hand. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Always,” the older man said. He appeared to be starting the process of sobering up, so the teen wanted to ask him a personal question before he lost the chance.

“Did you ever have romantic feelings for Starscream?”

Ratchet blinked, clearly not expecting that. “I don't know,” he answered with a loose shrug. “I never really had time to think about it. That, and Star has always been madly in love with someone else, so I didn't want to think about it just in case I did.”

Gravescour smiled. “I appreciate your honesty,” the teen said softly.

“I'll always be honest with you,” the older man promised. “What about you and Riot? Did you or do you love him?”

“Oh, truly and deeply. But we both know we wouldn't work as a couple. That's why we're such good friends.”

Ratchet could only gape for a few seconds. He then shook his head fondly. “What I really wanna know is who raised this generation of brats to be so mature. I sure as hell know it wasn't your parents.”

Gravescour laughed in response, having to cover his mouth with his free hand, and eventually pull away from Ratchet.

“I'm starting to sober up and regret getting such a big sundae,” the white-haired man said, looking down at the still mostly full cup. The teen kept laughing.

“I'll get you a lid. Oh! And I'll grab Star's ice cream, too.”

“Use my card,” Ratchet instructed, reaching for his wallet.

At the till, the young woman behind the counter gave the teen a long look. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Is he okay? He seemed pretty angry when you first got here. Do you need help?”

Light blue eyes blinked. Gravescour couldn't help but smile. “We're fine,” he assured her. “He's just upset and needed to vent.” The slender man leaned on the counter. “He has a friend in an abusive relationship and won't leave his partner. It's tiring him out. Oh, speaking of that friend, he wanted us to pick up a pint of chocolate ice cream for him.”

The young woman had frowned throughout the explanation. “I'll get that right out for you. I'll throw in some chocolate chips and fudge for free,” she said, and set about getting the things they needed.

Ratchet had been admittedly shy about holding hands with Gravescour in public. He feared what people would say about the younger man. But, on the way home, he slipped his free hand into the teen's, loving the way the younger man tried to hide his smile behind his hair. They put the ice cream leftovers and the chocolate pint in the freezer when they found the living room bereft of Starscream. His car was still in the driveway when they'd arrived, so they assumed he'd gone to the guest room for the evening. After kicking his shoes off, Ratchet took Gravescour's hand again. The teen chuckled.

“You're sure affectionate right now,” he teased as the older man led him down the hallway.

“I'll show you just how affectionate once we get the door closed behind us,” Ratchet cooed.

“Shouldn't we check on Starscream?” Gravescour asked.

“He'd text us if he needed anything,” the older man promised, crowding the teen against the door as he used their weight to close it.

Slender arms wrapped around a thicker neck, and lips met in a tender kiss. Ratchet took the thin face in his hands, appreciating how it was filling out, no longer gaunt. “I fall in love with you more every time I talk to you,” the older man said softly, giving each cheek a kiss.

The younger man couldn't keep a giggle inside. “Don't pull something falling for me,” he teased.

“Too late,” the white-haired man said, lifting Gravescour by the thighs, long legs wrapping around him as he turned to move them to the bed. “I fell so hard I left a dent.”

The teen laughed in response, sliding his fingers under the hem of his partner's shirt. They undressed each other, exposed skin, sighing with each touch.

“You're so handsome,” Ratchet cooed, fingers dancing up the inside of his thigh. Gravescour spread his legs, already quivering. The fingers brushed his hidden folds and the slender hips bucked. “Is this what you want tonight?” he asked, gently spreading his lover.

“Yes,” the younger man gasped, reaching up to thread his fingers in soft white hair. “Please, Ratchet.”

The man shivered, hearing his name like that. He eased his fingers in one at a time, picking up the pace as he reached three. Gravescour's moaning rose in pitch, and Ratchet's length throbbed with his want. He briefly thought he should kiss the other to keep him quiet, but the thought quickly fled his mind when blue eyes looked up at him imploringly.

“Ratchet, want you inside me.”

Neither of them could find it within themselves to be quiet when Ratchet pushed inside, a wet squelching sound and his lover's moan music to his ears.

In the guest room, Starscream stopped speaking mid-sentence.

“Starscream?” Riot asked.

“Oh my god,” the silver-haired man groaned.

“What? What is it?” the teen grew worried. They'd been having a pleasant chat about mundane things when the older man had stopped suddenly.

“I think this is what they meant by 'sex noises',” Starscream mumbled.

“I don't hear anything,” the teen said.

“I'm surprised. They're, uh, quite vocal,” he said. He then swallowed thickly wishing his pants weren't growing tight.

“Move closer,” Riot requested, his voice almost a purr. Starscream could hear the teen's grin and he shivered. “I want to hear.”

So the older man crept from the guest room, thankful for the well-greased hinges. He put the phone up to the door just as Gravescour let out a particularly pathetic sounding whimper.

“I've got you,” they could both hear Ratchet promise. “Just come for me, hun. Come all over my dick. You feel so good.”

Starscream's face blazed with embarrassment and a twinge of arousal. He brought the phone back to his ear and hissed out; “Please tell me you heard that,” as he scurried back to the guest room. He closed the door behind him and shoved his free hand into his pants to rub himself, barely more than teasing.

“Yeah, that was hot,” Riot admitted breathlessly. “Hey, ya know, maybe it's too soon, but do you wanna-”

“Yes!” Starscream interrupted. “Yes, I do. We just have to be quiet about it. I don't want them knowing I heard them.”

“Aww, but where's the fun in that?” Riot teased. Starscream shivered. “You could put me on speaker, and I could try to stay quiet.”

“As hot as that is, I don't think so,” the older man said, pressing two fingers inside himself. He cursed at how excited he was already.

“But don't you want to hold my mouth shut? Doesn't it excite you to know that our friends might hear us if you don't?” Riot's voice was low, deeper than usual over the phone, making the slender man's knees weak.

“It does, but how am I supposed to hold your mouth shut over the phone?” he teased, still fingering himself.

“Put a finger over the speaker,” Riot explained. “If it's not too wet, that is. I know mine would be,” the teen nearly purred.

Starscream gave a little curse. “Are you fingering yourself?” he asked, breathless.

“Yeah,” the other admitted. “I miss your cock.”

The older man cursed again and withdrew his fingers. He held the phone with his shoulder to shimmy his pants down to his knees, taking his length in the hand that was wet with his own fluids. “I'd love to shove my cock in your horny little pussy right now, but you're going to have to make do with fingers for the time being,” Starscream said. The resulting whine had him glad he didn't put the phone on speaker. “Hush, you'll get it later. I'll bury my dick inside you, sweet thing.”

Riot wasn't quiet. Starscream could swear he heard the wet squelch of fingers going at the teen's hole, but surely, he thought, that was impossible. The thought spurred him on, though, and he stroked himself a bit roughly, suddenly desperate.

“I'll play with your clit, too. Want to see you come on my dick,” he said with a groan.

“Fuck, Star, I'm gonna come,” Riot said.

“Already?” Starscream teased, having the upper hand making his dick throb.

“I can't help it,” the teen hissed. “Thinking about you makes me so sensitive here. Listen.” The squelching grew louder, as did Riot's moaning.

Starscream shook with the knowledge that he had heard the other's fingers the first time, and he groaned. It was hard not to curl in on himself like he would curl around the younger man's body if he were there. “Riot, that's- oh fuck, I'm about to-”

The teen clearly brought the phone back to his ear if the low growl right into the receiver was any indication. “Come for me, Starscream. Fill up my horny pussy with your cum,” the younger man broke off in a moan of his own and Starscream huffed out a curse as his length throbbed. His free hand quickly shot out to catch his mess, remembering where he was. It gave him a little thrill to think of where he was leaning and who was close by as he erupted into his own hand, listening to the choked-off sounds of his partner's orgasm over the phone. He only wished that the younger man was there with him.

After they caught their breath, Riot chuckled. “You didn't make a mess of the guest bedroom, did you?” he asked.

“No!” Starscream hissed sharply before giving a little laugh himself. “You almost got me, though. I would not have enjoyed explaining why I was scrubbing the carpet.”

The teen gave a louder laugh then. “Could you imagine one of them finding your cum stain while cleaning?”

Starscream didn't want to know why that thought made him shiver. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the bedside stand and sat about cleaning himself up. “You are one kinky young man, you know that?” Starscream teased.

“You love it,” was the teasing response.

“I- I kinda do,” the older man admitted. “Maybe we could-”

“Hey, uh-”

“Yes?” Starscream asked, laying down on the bed.

“Would you maybe, uh, wanna go out sometime? Like, uh, on a real date?”

Starscream was silent for a long moment, and he could hear Riot swallow quickly, probably regretting his decision. “Well, yes, but-”

“I mean-”

“No, Riot, listen,” the older man said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I'm listening.”

“I don't know if I'm going to leave Megatron yet. But if- if I do, and we try to have a relationship, I'm going to need you to be up front with me about everything. I can't handle any more men keeping secrets from me.”

“Of course, Starscream,” Riot said, his voice softer than it had been. “I'll always be honest with you. I would have already if I had known.”

“Alright, then. A- a date, you said?”

“Yeah. We just need to figure out a time and place. What, uh, what do you like to eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits appreciated.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor warning for slut-shaming in this chapter.

Optimus and Arcee were the last to arrive of the initially invited guests. Arcee sat the bowl she'd brought with her next to several other similar bowls filled with Riot's favorite green dish. Gravescour hovered around the table that was mostly guacamole and various kinds of chips. He seemed to be looking for someone or something.

“You alright there?” Arcee asked, cocking her head.

“Yeah, just making sure Riot's dad isn't around before I put these out,” the goth teen explained, pulling a large plate of cookies from behind his back. He sat them between some bags of chips, hoping they'd be disguised. But, as the young man lifted the plastic wrap, it was as if the rustling sound were a dog whistle, summoning Thrush out of nowhere. Arcee and Optimus jumped back as the brunette popped up, hissed, and grabbed a handful of cookies. Thankfully, he left most of them rather than taking the whole plate.

Gravescour laughed and ran off while Ratchet stayed to chat with his friends and Thrush. Gravescour found Riot in the backyard with Bumblebee and Bluestreak.

“'Scour!” Bumblebee called out, waving the younger teen over. Riot missed the hole he was aiming at with the beanbag. “Join m-me!” he offered, handing the taller man some beanbags.

Gravescour threw a bag at the wooden board by Riot's feet. It slid into the hole.

“No, you're cheating!” Riot taunted. “Wa-” he squawked when a beanbag hit him in the face. The other teens laughed. Riot recovered quickly and threw one back at his best friend, nailing him in the shoulder. They laughed. The white-haired teen decided it was time for a snack after he'd thrown all of his beanbags at Gravescour and Bumblebee. “Oh my god,” Riot cheered upon finding the table set up in the front yard stocked with several different recipes of guacamole. He loaded a plate with some of each kind and a hefty helping of tortilla chips. He sampled the first kind and gave a happy little sound. He then looked up to find everyone but Arcee looking at him. The slender bluenette looked confused, a chip of her own with the green substance halfway to her mouth. “Why is no one else eating?” Riot asked.

A short silence followed as everyone looked at each other. Eventually Ratchet bit the bullet and spoke up; “No one but you and Arcee really likes guacamole,” he explained.

Riot blinked a few times, putting another chip in his mouth. After he swallowed, a grin stretched across his face. “More for me, then!” He put more guacamole on his plate and grabbed a cookie, marveling at the fact that his father hadn't taken them all. “Maybe it's not so bad that my dad is dating Optimus, if he's teaching him not to run away with all these cookies!”

Arcee grinned at the blush that spread across her taller friend's face.

“Where is he, anyway?”

“Over here!” Meld called from the garage, the door raised.

Riot trotted over, leaving the other teens at the snack table to try Gravescour's cookies.

“Hey,” Meld said, drawing out the word. She had clearly been drinking. So had Thrush, if the redness of his dark face was any indication.

“Son,” the man said, then paused to consider what he just said. He turned to Meld. “I said 'son', right?”

“Yes, Dad,” she said with a laugh.

The brunette nodded and turned back to Riot, reaching into a cooler as he spoke; “You're serving your country now. You can have one.” He pulled a tall can of beer from the cooler and handed it off Riot.

“Are you sure?” the teen asked, raising a fine white brow. “You've had an awful lot to drink, and I don't want you to regret this decision later.”

“I think he's drunk on the cookies,” Meld explained. She took a sip from her own tall can before she continued; “He's only had six beers all day.”

“'Only' six,” Riot mumbled, complete with air quotes. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I'm proud'a you, kid. And I love you,” he said with a nod. Meld tried her hardest not to laugh.

“Thanks, I love you too,” Riot answered, running off with his prize before his father had a chance to change his mind. He sat in the grass with the other teens, and they simply talked.

The adults gathered in the garage to share alcoholic beverages and stories about Riot. Said teen was halfway through his beer when a blue car pulled up. The white-haired teen tried not to let his disappointment show when Thundercracker stepped out. He had been hoping Starscream would have shown up, but he cast the thought aside in favor of greeting a friend he hadn't seen in a while. The bespectacled teen sat in the grass next to Riot and shoved a small package into his hands.

“The school is using my play!” he cheered. When he was met with red and blue stares, he blushed a bit. “Oh, and congrats on surviving your military school thing.”

Riot laughed and put his beer between his knees to open the gift. It was a handmade sculpture of an airplane, the vehicle tethered to the base by a jet of smoke. “Thanks, man,” the older teen said, smiling fondly.

About an hour passed, all of the boys that knew each other catching up while Bluestreak listened, getting to know the friends of his new friends, before Ratchet wandered over to the teens.

“Hey, I'm starting to feel like a third wheel over there. Ya'll want to order pizza?”

Most of the teens perked up at the idea.

“Third wheel?” Riot asked, standing up. He helped Bumblebee up, who helped Bluestreak, who helped the other two.

Ratchet shrugged. “Optimus and Thrush went inside, and I'm pretty sure your sister is hitting on Arcee.” He laughed at the teen's horrified expression.

“Wait, is Miss Arcee a lesbian?” Thundercracker asked, head cocked.

“She's bi,” Ratchet said, feeling as though that's how she'd respond if she were asked.

“Cool! Like me!” the teen with glasses cheered.

“Like m-m-most people, I think,” Bumblebee said.

“Still!” Riot said, raising his voice a little. “I am very uncomfortable with everyone in my family dating former authority figures in my life!”

“Miss Arcee is hot, though,” Thundercracker said.

Ratchet and Gravescour had a good laugh at the shade of red Riot turned. Ratchet ordered everything the teens asked for, much to their delight, as well as what they figured the older attendees would want. They joked around and convinced Ratchet to give the beanbag game a go while they waited.

They took the pizza into the garage when it arrived, startling Arcee and Meld, who were sitting too close for Riot's comfort.

“Oh, hell yes!” Meld cheered. “Please tell me one of those has mushrooms!”

“Of course one does,” the white-haired teen said, “'Scour and I love mushrooms too.”

As they were digging in, a black car pulled up at the end of the driveway. Gravescour's phone went off with a text, and the lanky teen jumped up. Riot watched, assuming it wasn't Starscream, since his friend was jogging toward the car. When the window rolled down, they all caught a glimpse of a woman in her early forties, her long black hair pulled up in a fancy updo. She had on too much makeup, yet it was somehow charming. The two chatted for a moment, and the woman shook her head, though she smiled as she did so. She gestured toward the back seat, and Ratchet grew a bit anxious. He and Riot looked at each other, then back to the car to watch Gravescour open the back door and pull out several boxes. Two were somewhat small and had strange protrusions, the third was a big white box much like one would get from a bakery.

“Thanks so much! See you tomorrow!” Gravescour called as he walked back up with the boxes.

“Who was that?” Riot asked, bug-eyed.

“My boss,” Gravescour explained as he sat the boxes next to the pizza. “She gave me the day off because of your party, and she said she'd bring the leftovers by after she closed down the shop for the day.”

“Oh, that was nice of her,” Ratchet said, brows raised.

“Sure was! You found a great boss,” the white-haired teen said as he flipped open the bigger box to gape at all the sweets inside. He turned it to the others. “Let's get fat, boys,” he said before grabbing a doughnut he assumed was of the cream-filled variety.

The other teens quickly made their selections, Meld nabbing one with rainbow sprinkles before Thundercracker could snag it. Even Arcee indulged.

After he finished eating and gave Riot a hug, Thundercracker headed out. Bumblebee and Bluestreak were next to leave. Just when Riot was convinced that Starscream wouldn't show up, the sun having set, a silver car parked just to one side of the mailbox. The white-haired teen perked up and pointedly ignored the joke Gravescour made about him looking like a puppy. When Starscream stepped out, Riot ran over. Gravescour leaned into Ratchet, and the older man wrapped an arm around his shoulders, smiling softly.

While Riot greeted Starscream at his car, Meld said; “Ya know, Dad and his boy toy have been inside an awfully long time.”

“They're probably fucking,” Arcee said, making Ratchet spit out of some of the coffee drink he'd been sampling. Arcee laughed heartily, the other two joining in. “Hey, Star,” she greeted when he and Riot walked up.

“We have pizza and sweets, and have a ton of guac. I can reheat a few slices if you like,” Riot offered.

“No, a cold slice will be just fine, thank you,” he said, accepting a plate. Red eyes widened as Ratchet got up to heap the plate for him. “You know I can't eat this much.”

“You can try,” the older man teased. “If you can't finish it, let the human garbage disposal here finish it.” He winked at Riot.

They included Star into their conversation, Meld convincing Arcee to have a few beers. The ladies went to the back yard to start a fire, suggesting the others join them soon. It almost sounded threatening.

“Sure, I'm just gonna give Star a tour of the house real quick, then we'll come out back.” When the women were out of earshot, Riot looked to Gravescour. “Will you make sure she doesn't set the whole yard on fire? She can be a bit of a pyromaniac at times.”

“You're asking _me_ to keep someone from setting things on fire?” the goth teen asked, a hand to his chest.

“Good point,” Riot said. He turned to Ratchet. “Will you keep my sister and Gravescour from setting the yard on fire?”

Ratchet laughed. “Sure,” he said and stood.

Alone with Starscream, Riot smiled shyly. “I've missed you,” he said.

“It's been four days,” the older man teased, enjoying the spreading of the teen's blush. “But, I will admit that I have missed you, as well. I was quite a bit surprised to find that so many of us came from the same county.” He nervously scratched one arm. “We may be able to see each other on occasion after all.”

“I hope it's more than just 'on occasion',” Riot said, looking up through his lashes.

“We'll see,” Starscream teased, smiling. “So, that tour?”

When Riot and Starscream hadn't shown their faces around the fire twenty minutes later, Meld started looking for things to burn. Ratchet quickly placed an order on his food app for s'mores supplies and prayed they would arrive before the young woman ran out of garbage.

Elsewhere, Starscream marveled at the size of the house as he was given a walkthrough, impressed even though the younger man ignored the area where the bedrooms were. “Aren't you going to show me your room?” Starscream asked, a sensual lilt to his voice.

Riot's shoulders hunched. “I would, but my dad has his boyfriend over, and-”

“Your father is dating Optimus,” the silver-haired man deadpanned.

“Oh, right, you know him, too,” Riot trailed off with a groan.

Starscream chuckled. “You haven't shown me the basement yet,” he teased with a raised brow.

About to explain that it was just storage, the teen finally caught the drift and led the older man to the stairs. At the bottom, he was surprised with a little peck on the lips. Nothing grand, almost a greeting type kiss.

“Congratulations,” Starscream said.

“It's all thanks to you, sir,” Riot said breathlessly.

“Is it now? Then how about you show me a little appreciation?” He made a downward gesture with his finger and the teen dropped to his knees. Starscream threaded his fingers in black and white locks, marveling at the boy's obedience. Not a minute had passed before Riot was enthusiastically laving his somehow rock-hard length with attention. “Now that is appreciation,” the older man moaned, petting the teen's hair and cheeks. “So delightful,” he cooed.

Riot palmed himself through his sweats as he pleasured his former commanding officer.

“Pick up the pace a little, darling. We'll have to get back soon. What if the others came looking for us and found you on your knees?” he teased breathlessly, delighting in the way the younger man moaned around his throbbing length. “But you'd like that, wouldn't you? Your friends seeing how hungry you are for my cock.”

Riot almost growled, doubling his efforts and gagging on the prick as he tried to take it down his throat.

Starscream hissed out a curse. “Don't hurt yourself,” he muttered. “But damn that feels good. Hope you're ready to swallow.”

Riot's eyes rolled back in his head as the prick throbbed in his mouth, spurting down his throat. He hoped the wet spot on his sweats wouldn't be noticeable, but was frankly too far gone to care.

They took a moment to compose themselves, Starscream leaning against the nearest wall. “It's too bad we don't have time to do more right now,” he said, his chest still heaving the slightest bit. “But I suppose we will have to meet up again _very_ soon.”

Riot felt his whole body growing hot. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I- I look forward to it.” After a moment he added, “But I really do need to make sure my sister and Gravescour don't burn the house down.”

Starscream barked out a sudden laugh. “Lead the way,” he said.

They found the others around the fire, chatting. They all held sticks with marshmallows on them, both Meld's and Gravescour's aflame. The goth teen blew his out, but the young woman seemed to enjoy watching them burn. She jumped when Arcee put them out with graham crackers, laughing when the bluenette handed her a fully built s'more.

“There you are!” Ratchet said. “I was starting to wonder if you two had gotten lost,” he teased, amused by how both of them reddened. Arcee raised a brow and Gravescour grinned. “S'mores?” Ratchet offered.

They talked for a while, making quite a few jokes at Riot's expense. Eventually Optimus and a then-sober Thrush joined them. They became the butt of the jokes. For a few hours, all was well. Stories were swapped, s'mores were eaten, and good times were had by all.

* * *

A few days later, Riot received a text he wasn't expecting.

 _You busy?_ from Starscream.

_Just doing some extra yard work to get some spending money. What's up?_

_I have some free time today if you want to hang out._

_Gravescour got me into CreCo, so I've no doubt you play it. Want to go to the wooded path and walk the stations later?_

_Sure! Meet you in the parking lot in half an hour?_

_I'll be there. :)_

Riot was all nervous energy when he arrived, throwing on a pair of skinny jeans and an embroidered tank top in an effort to look nice, though he couldn't help but wonder if he looked like he was trying too hard. To make up for the decorative shirt, he decided to forgo lip gloss, but fussed with his hair in his car's mirror while he waited. A tap on his window startled him, and the white-haired teen looked over to see Starscream laughing.

“Hey,” he said nervously, as he stepped out.

“Hey yourself,” the older man teased. “We ready to get these stations?”

“Yes, sir,” Riot said, holding out his phone.

They made awkward small talk during their first lap, but by the second lap, Riot was listening happily as his older companion told a story about the first time he flew on his own. The teen was captivated, and almost walked into trees or tripped as Starscream went on about the exhilaration, the freedom. He did trip, finally, watching the blissful expression he'd never before seen on the platinum blonde's face. Starscream's arm shot out to catch him, but they both went tumbling to the dirt. After Riot stammered out an embarrassed apology, the older man chuckled.

“Well, if you wanted me on top of you that badly,” he teased, grinning, “all you had to do was ask.” He looked around for a moment before crawling on top of the younger man, straddling his hips. Starscream's high heels didn't go unnoticed. “I haven't forgotten about your little exhibition kink. We could just sneak off into the woods right now, if you want.”

“I- seriously?” Riot's hands came up to hold the thin sides cautiously, almost as if he'd scare the other off if he held too tight.

Starscream wiggled his hips, grinding against the teen's growing erection. “What do you think?” he asked, a brow raised. He brought a leg up, planting his heel firmly on the ground by the teen's head to get up.

Riot whined, watching the spectacle; slim legs ended in high heels over him, an erection tenting jeans on display as Starscream stood. Riot couldn't help the whimper that escaped him as the older man looked down at him.

“Pick up your jaw and come with me,” he ordered, stepping over the younger man and walking off the path.

Elsewhere, Bumblebee picked up Gravescour. The taller teen climbed into the back seat of his yellow beater, the passenger seat occupied by Bluestreak. The shorter teen had called Gravescour to come jogging with them, and he happily agreed since he was home alone while Ratchet was at work. So, dressed in their sweats and tees, they headed out to find a forest path to jog. The blonde parked at a nearby gas station so they could grab some water, and they left the car there, heading off to find a path to jog down.

“I g-g-gotta warn you, Bluestreak,” Bumblebee said, “Gravescour is r-really fast.”

“Oh yeah?” the bluenette asked, looking over at the other teen, sizing up the slender legs. “Think he'll be a challenge for us, then?”

“He m-might leave us in the dust,” the blonde said, his voice cheerful.

Gravescour blushed, tucking a stray lock of hair that had escaped his bun behind his ear. As shy as he acted, he couldn't hide his grin. Bluestreak put a finger and thumb to his own chin.

“Want to race, then?” he asked, a thick, blue brow raised.

“I'm game,” the slender teen said.

“W-w-we should walk the path we're g-gonna r-run first, so Bluestreak doesn't get lost.”

“I'm sure I can follow a path, 'Bee,” the thicker young man said.

“W-well! It has a couple forks! S-so we should tell you which way to go,” the smallest teen stammered. “Plus, a walk would be a nice w-w-warmup, don't you think?” Bluestreak chuckled, gesturing for the others to lead the way.

Once they knew the path they were taking, they picked their start and finish lines. When Bumblebee gave the signal to go, Bluestreak took off like a rocket, leaving the others behind. The blonde chuckled and shook his head, choosing to jog instead of burn himself out. The path they chose was over a mile long. Gravescour gave a polite wave, then ran off after the bluenette, gaining quickly. It wasn't long until they took a curve in the trail and were out of Bumblebee's sight.

Still jogging as he came up to the curve his friends had disappeared around, his attention was taken by a series of sounds coming from further down the path. As he drew nearer, the young man recognized the sounds of voices. Familiar voices.

“You're being loud on purpose, aren't you?” That was the unmistakable hiss of his former drill sergeant Starscream.

“Uhn,” was the groan that followed, and Bumblebee followed the sound. “Maybe your dick just feels so good that I can't keep quiet.” The moan was clearly coming from Riot.

Bumblebee's pants grew tight as he remembered that night in the bunks. He regretted not getting a look back then, though he kept his eyes closed out of courtesy for his friend. But, he couldn't help but think, if they were in public again and he caught a glimpse, it was only reasonable since they were out in the open. He decided not to question it anymore as he followed the sounds. It wasn't long before he caught a glimpse of flesh tones between the trees. Bumblebee took a few steps off the path, careful not to make any sounds of his own, though he doubted any twig-snapping would be heard over Riot's moaning and Starscream's hissed shushing.

The blonde ducked under a thick branch and – yes! - he had a great view of the action. Riot had one leg up on a downed log, Starscream's slender fingers gripping the same thick thigh. The shorter man held onto the lowest branch of a nearby tree, practically supporting the both of them as Starscream pounded him from behind. The white-haired teen's other hand was between his legs, two fingers working is clit. He moaned, loud enough to hear far down the path. When Starscream shoved the first three fingers of his free hand in Riot's mouth to silence him, Bumblebee's dick throbbed. The blonde had to free himself from his shorts, pulling his sweats down just far enough that he could stroke his length to the show. He gave a little moan as he touched himself, then quickly bit his lip to hold back the sound.

He'd seen Riot in the shower, but he'd never seen the teen straining how he was, his thighs tight, the cuts of his muscles clear under that caramel-colored skin. He'd never seen those red eyes as tiny slits, and had certainly never seen the teen sucking on slender, pale fingers like they were a hard cock, spit dribbling down his soft chin. Bumblebee almost closed his eyes, Starscream's taunting about being seen too much. They couldn't know he was there, neither of them had looked in his direction. He hadn't been pleasuring himself for more than a couple minutes, but he was already at his limit.

The blonde was thankful that the white-haired teen's garbled shout of orgasm drowned out his own low groan as he spilled his seed on the foliage before him.

“You know someone is going to see you coming on my dick if you keep shouting like that,” the silver-haired man hissed, his thrusts growing erratic.

Bumblebee watched for a moment longer as he shook himself clean, seeing Riot wrap an arm around Starscream's shoulders to support himself. The small teen decided to leave before both men had a chance to cool down and notice him.

At the finish line to the race, Gravescour and Bluestreak waited awkwardly.

“It's been five minutes,” the bluenette announced. “I know 'Bee isn't as fast as me, but he should be here by now.”

“Maybe he was kidnapped by a child sex ring,” Gravescour joked. Bluestreak blinked. “Ya know, because he's so smol and cute?”

The bluenette fought the urge to move farther away from the dark-haired teen with the dark sense of humor. He'd noticed the knife in the slender man's shorts when they stopped to catch their breath when the race was over.

Bluestreak had come in second, much to his displeasure. He was impressed with the other's speed, as skeeved out as he found himself.

“Do you want to go look for him?” Gravescour offered. “Someone probably stopped him for a chat. He's a friendly little dork who can't say 'no'.”

“I'd be worried that he got hurt,” Bluestreak said, stretching his arms over his head.

“Nah, he'd scream if he was hurt,” the dark-haired man said with a shake of his head.

Just as they decided to head back down the path, the small blonde came trotting out of the tree line.

“What happened, dude?” Gravescour asked.

Bumblebee blushed, putting a hand in his hair. “I took a wrong turn,” he said, laughing.

Bluestreak put a hand on his own hip. “And you were the one who wanted to make sure we knew the path,” he teased.

“Yeah,” Bumblebee drew out the word. He felt bad for lying to his friends, but he couldn't exactly tell them what he'd seen.

Elsewhere in the same park, Riot and Starscream sat on the downed log, fully clothed, sharing one of the older man's long cigarettes.

“You know,” Starscream started, watching a smoke ring he blew waft away, “This was the first thing I did after I landed after my first solo flight.”

“You fucked someone in the woods?” Riot teased.

“I had a cigarette!” the older man corrected, his face reddening.

“I figured. I was just messin',” Riot said, his tongue peeking out between his lips. “Hey, uh, if I don't have you as my teacher in the fall, can we fly together sometime?”

“I probably will be your teacher, since there's only enough air units this year for three classes,” Starscream explained. “But, on the off-chance that I don't get you, I wouldn't mind taking you up some day.”

“Cool,” Riot said, unable to keep from smiling.

* * *

“Where have you been all afternoon?” Starscream heard as soon as he'd closed the door behind himself. He put a hand to his chest over his heart as the sound startled him. When he realized it was only Megatron, the silver-haired man heaved a sigh of relief. He stepped away from the door, his heels clicking.

“I told you I was going to go play CreCo with Riot and his friends.”

“You did,” the older man agreed. He folded the newspaper and laid it down on the dining room table. “But I didn't think you'd be gone all night playing a children's game. In high heels, no less.”

Starscream blushed slightly. “I'm just so used to wearing heels outside of work that I didn't even think to wear something else,” he admitted. “And it's not a children's game. Optimus and Arcee play it. Hell, even Ratchet, of all people, plays it.”

“Yes, well I'm pretty sure Ratchet-” Megatron said the name with such derision, “would do anything it takes to get into that long-haired teenager's pants.”

“How do you know about Gravescour?” Starscream asked as he walked over. He remembered the teen's confession, slapping him, the pain he'd felt and caused in that moment. But he kept those emotions from his face to see if his partner would lie to him.

“I'm the one who recruited his little white-haired friend that you kept ogling at the graduation ceremony,” the older man said, picking up the drinks that Starscream hadn't noticed on the table. Whiskey, with ice.

“You're really going to bring that up when you fucked Gravescour?”

Megatron downed his drink and sat the glass back on the table, surprisingly carefully. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes, actually,” Starscream said, a hand on his hip. “I'm inclined to believe him, too. Why else would he run the risk of ruining his reputation if it wasn't the truth?” Starscream accused, his chin turned up.

“They were just prostitutes, Star,” the older man said, standing. He walked over to the counter to pour himself another glass as the slender man gaped.

“‘They’?! You've done it with more than one person?!”

Megatron turned around with a raised brow, surprised that the teen only told Starscream about himself. “Prostitutes, Starscream. They mean nothing to me.”

“It means something to me!” the younger man shrieked. “It means everything to me! Am I not enough for you?!”

Megatron finally raised his voice; “And what about you? Sneaking off with your own little whore?”

Starscream bared his teeth. “Riot is not a whore! And neither is Gravescour for that matter!” he shouted. “He quit when he got with Ratchet!”

“Ah, yes. Ratchet, always going after my sloppy seconds,” the older man said darkly. Another glass of amber liquid disappeared down the bigger man's gullet. “Funny, I always kind of thought you were cheating on me with Ratchet, but I should have figured he was too much of a goody two-shoes to fuck someone while they're in a relationship.” A malicious grin stretched across his scarred face. “Not to mention I know that his dick is too small to satisfy your horny pussy.”

Starscream sputtered for a moment, shocked out of his anger momentarily. “I- I wouldn't know,” he said, his voice more timid than he wanted it to be.

“Because you haven't fucked him, or because your pussy is so stretched out that you couldn't feel it?”

“I haven't fucked Ratchet! Primus fucking Christ, Megatron!” Starscream threw his hands up in exasperation. He stomped off up the stairs, launching into an angry tirade. “But maybe I will now, just to piss you off! I'm sure it would have to be a threesome too, since he and Gravescour have a loving relationship where they trust and talk to each other!

“Fuck it, I'll even bring Riot in! Why the fuck not?! And hey, everyone thinks Arcee is hot, so we'll invite her and just make it a goddamn orgy!” As he shouted, he packed a bag.

Megatron watched from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, yet another glass of whiskey in his hand. “You're all about my sloppy seconds too, it seems,” he quipped.

“Fuck you!” Starscream shouted, shoving clean underwear in his bag. “I can't deal with this shit. I work so damn hard to be everything you want and you still go out and cheat on me!”

“You're the one who wanted this relationship,” Megatron reminded. “But I did fall in love with you,” he said, setting his half glass on the bedside stand. “Why don't you put that down and come to bed?” the brunette asked as he approached. He lifted a hand to place it on the slender man's back, but was surprised to find it slapped away.

“If you love me, you need to start acting like it!” Starscream shouted. “We can't just fall back into bed every time we have an argument. Come up with something else to fix this or I'm gone!” His voice trembled by the time he was done. Tears welled in his eyes but he refused to let them spill, summoning up every last shred of pride that Megatron hadn't ripped from him to hold his chin up as he walked from the room. Once down the stairs he called out, “Once you're willing to talk about this, you can text me.”

In his car, Starscream could hear Megatron throwing and breaking things in their home. Tears finally poured down his cheeks as he put the vehicle in reverse and pulled out of the driveway.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to Arcee's apartment complex. He parked in a guest spot and just held onto the steering wheel and cried for several long minutes.

Instead of texting, he just walked up to her unit, bag slung over his shoulder. She answered the door when he knocked, looking mildly annoyed. Her eyes widened when she saw the tear tracks on his face. Without a word, she stepped back to let him in. Her apartment was a bit on the spartan side, save for the workout equipment tucked into one corner and the shelves full of DVDs and tapes. Starscream sat on the loveseat and the bluenette shut the door. She took out her phone to start typing up an email to send to the superintendent. After sending it, she grabbed vodka and juice, as well as two glasses and headed back to the couch.

“Alright. Dish,” she said, handing one of the glasses to her friend.

* * *

“I'm a cowgirl, and I'm ridin' on my horse. Bang-de-bang,” Gravescour sang purposefully off-key as he and Riot rode their horses down a path on Thrush's ranch.

“Oh my god,” the older teen said, exasperated. “I never should have introduced you to that song. This is the eighth time you've started singing that, and I'm getting tired of it.”

“Sorry!” the other teen said, sticking his tongue out. “It's just so good! And appropriate!”

“It's good for the first three times!” Riot said. “The horses need watered, anyway, so let's get back to the corral and get them a drink.” After a moment, he muttered, “Maybe once you get down you'll stop singing.”

They took off back up the long dirt path, shaded by trees on one side and lined by a field of dark blueish grass on the other. Riot dismounted Arial when he reached the red metal gate. The paint was wearing thin from the elements, he noticed as he opened it to let the horses in. He tethered her to a nearby stand, and removed her saddle. He helped the younger teen when he was finished, but by that point in Gravescour's horse experience, all Riot had to do was take the equipment and hang it up. He was pleasantly surprised to find the goth teen turning on the tap to fill the trough with fresh water when he returned from putting up their gear. The black-haired teen watched happily as the huge creatures lapped at the fresh water.

“So, how're things with Ratchet?” Riot asked, taking off his rose glasses and pushing his bangs back out of his face.

“Things are so great, Riot,” the taller boy said, moving away from the trough to climb up on the metal fence. “I just found out he likes baseball, so next year we're gonna get season tickets and go whenever I don't have to work.” He laid his chin on the railing. “How about you and St-” He hesitated for a moment, his good mood vanished at the talk he knew they'd need to have. “-ar?”

Riot raised a brow at the way his friend tensed. “I'm crushing hard,” the black-and-white-haired young man admitted, turning off the faucet when he was sure the horses had enough water. “I just can't help it, though. He's just so cool.”

“That dork, cool?” Gravescour teased.

Riot turned an overdramatic frown at his friend. “Don't call him a dork! He's a fighter pilot. He did a tour in the last war.”

Gravescour's brows rose. “Oh, I didn't know that. He's gotta be at least thirty-five then, huh?” Riot dreaded the devious look that crossed his friend's face meant. “I guess we both have a thing for older guys, then!”

“He's not _old_!” the thicker teen defended. “He's very fit and active still!”

“I'm just teasing! Thirty-five isn't even old. But he is a dork. You should have seen him squeal when he caught a Planebird in CreCo.”

“I'd really like to get to know him better.”

“I hope for both of your sakes that you do,” the younger teen said, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Riot asked, making a gesture with two fingers to indicate that he wanted a cigarette.

Gravescour lit two and handed him one. “Ah, I've been dreading this,” the younger teen admitted, taking a long pull from his smoke.

“Spit it out,” Riot said, a bit miffed that the other knew something about his former commanding officer that he didn't.

“I hope the two of you wind up getting together,” he trailed off for a long moment, “so he can get out of the abusive relationship he's in right now.”

Riot nearly dropped his cigarette at that. “What do you mean?” The older teen's voice was smaller than he wanted it to be. “S-someone is hurting him? He's already in a relationship?”

Gravescour simply nodded.

“But he's a military man. How could someone possibly be abusing him? Why doesn't he just- why would he be fooling around with me if he- am I going to have to beat someone up?”

Gravescour couldn't help but scoff at the last comment. “Do you really think you can beat up Megatron?”

“ _Megatron_?! Holy shit. Why didn't you tell me sooner?” Riot demanded, kicking the lowest rung of the fence.

“Because I know you,” the younger teen said, hopping down from the still-jiggling metal. “I know you wouldn't want anyone else seeing you get upset.”

“You're right, you asshole. I'm gonna kick the fence again, so back up.”

Gravescour did as told, holding his hands up in a passive gesture. Riot kicked the fence with all his might, the rattling going all the way down the long line of metal poles. The nearby horses' ears went back in a nervous position.

“Hey,” called a somewhat feminine voice as two more people on horseback rode up. “What are you kicking the fence for?” Meld asked, settling her horse with a pat to the neck. “I think that testosterone's got you all keyed up if you're kicking fences.”

Thrush wisely kept his mouth shut, staring at his daughter with wide eyes. He dismounted his horse and slipped through the gate quickly, taking Meld's horse too, not wanting to be part of the argument he was sure was about to unfold.

“What's got you so mad, lil bro?”

Riot just turned away, one fist clenched, bringing the cigarette to his lips to finish it off.

“He just learned that his crush might not be available,” Gravescour supplied. He knew he'd have to shoo her off so his friend could properly vent.

“Not available? That skinny guy that was all over you at your party? No way he's not available,” she said with a shake of her head. “Even if he's not, I'm sure my lil bro is a much better option.”

“I agree,” Gravescour said, trying his damndest not to smirk. “But I think we need a little bit of time for guy talk, Meld. You know how it is, I'm sure.”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. “He's probably still mad at me for getting his gym teacher's number anyway.”

“Oh my god!” Riot raised his voice. “I'm not mad at you, it's just weird!” he said loudly. He jumped the fence and Gravescour followed. “Tell Dad we'll be back by dinner,” he called, taking a hold of Gravescour's wrist and tugged him toward the woods. “Tell me everything you know.”

Twenty minutes later, Riot was kicking things again. This time it was just brush – fallen leaves and small twigs – things far less likely to hurt him than the metal fence.

“Fuck!” he raised his voice once more. “Fuck, 'Scour, what am I supposed to do?” With his hands in his hair, he turned to look at the teen who had climbed up in a tree to let his friend rage. “There's just- so, so many questions. I don't- what do I do? Do I compete with Megatron?” He laughed bitterly. “How am I supposed to compete with _that_? Should I even bother?”

“I hope you do,” Gravescour said honestly. He'd lit another cigarette and did his best not to curl in on himself, Riot's kicking and throwing brush making him a little nervous despite knowing his best friend would never hurt him. “Megatron is a piece of shit. Starscream deserves better. You can be that better, if you still want to.”

“God,” Riot groaned, leaning against the tree his friend was in. “I think the most fucked up part of all of this is that I still do. I'm just-” He sighed. “Just upset that he would be capable of cheating, even if it's on a cheating jackass like Megatron.”

“At this point, I don't think I'd even consider it cheating,” the younger teen said. He could practically feel Riot looking up at him. “Their relationship is in such shambles that I don't know if I'd even call it a relationship.”

“Still,” the older teen mumbled.

“Look, you like him, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

“You want him to be happy, don't you?”

“Yeah,” Riot said, suspicion evident in his voice. “Are you suggesting I should leave it alone?”

“The opposite, actually. He probably doesn't know what a loving relationship is. Show him kindness. Express interest in his hobbies.”

“I have been, dude, but he shuts me down every time I try to talk to him about them.”

“Just be patient. We can all play CreCo together some day soon and see how things go. We'll weasel his hobbies out of him, and you can go from there.”

Riot chuckled, sounding torn between relief and dread.

“You make everything sound so simple,” he mumbled. He jumped when the younger teen dropped down next to him.

“It usually is,” was the answer, given with a smile. “I mean, if you two are just having sex, that's like what we did before I got with Ratchet. Just having fun. Fun you both need.” He threw his arms around Riot's shoulders as he went on; “And the more time he spends with you, the more time he'll spend with Ratchet and me. Ya know, with people who care about him, and want him to have a good life.” Gravescour held up his other hand, splayed for dramatic effect. “And he'll dump Megatron's cheating, controlling ass and you two will fall in love and make pretty babies.”

Riot paled. “I- uh, I think I'm too young for babies just yet, but the rest of that sounds nice, I guess,” he muttered. “I mean, I wouldn't say I'm in love yet. Not exactly.”

“I can tell you've caught feelings, though,” the slender teen teased.

“Man,” Riot groused, giving the other a playful shove off of him.

Gravescour just stuck out his tongue. “For now, let's go see what's for dinner. We can make a plan for you to talk to Star more later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits appreciated.


	17. Chapter 17

In the middle of next week, Starscream's last week before he had to return for teacher preparation, he stood before his clothes that he had packed. They were all splayed out on the guest bed, and he had a finger to his lips as he considered each article. The door having been left open allowed for Ratchet to poke his head in.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Gravescour and I finished trimming up the backyard. We're going to finish cleaning and then have some champagne around a little grill bonfire. Wanna join us?” he asked, holding up the bottle.

Momentarily distracted from his clothing debacle, Starscream looked puzzled. “You're going to let the kid drink?”

“It's champagne, not hard liquor,” the older man grumbled.

“I won't even get buzzed,” Gravescour put in, also poking his head in the door. “What ya doin' with all those clothes?”

“Oh, uh, well, I'm going on a date with Riot, so I won't be able to join you in your celebration tonight,” the slender man said, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

Gravescour's eyes lit up. “He didn't tell me that was today!” he sounded excited, ducking under Ratchet's arm and darting into the room. “Alright, let's see what you have!”

“Oh boy,” Ratchet said with a shake of his head. He walked away to put the champagne in the refrigerator. Gravescour spent the next half an hour practically making the older man try on different combinations. He even ran to his personal closet to grab a few items for his friend to try on.

“Your outfit is good, but it's missing something,” the teen said, his hand under his chin as he thought.

“Really,” Starscream said, adjusting the belt of his gray slacks, “This is fine. I don't want to be too fancy.”

“One accessory is not 'too fancy',” the younger man said, complete with quote fingers. “I think I have something,” he said, grabbing an item he'd brought, stalking up to the thinner man. “It may be a bit long, since I'm tall, and like to have a tail when I wear scarves,” he started, draping the fabric over the shoulders of the older man's dress shirt, “And I'm a bit more broad-chested than you, but if we bunch it in just the right way...” He trailed off for a moment, fiddling with the ends of the scarf. “There!” he said gleefully, spinning Starscream so he could look at himself in the mirror on the closet door. “I'm not really a fan of the red heels with the rest of your outfit, but you seem pretty dead-set on them, so I'll let it slide,” Gravescour teased.

“Well!” Starscream huffed. “These are the nicest shoes I packed when I left, so I want to wear them! Besides, this scarf has red in it, so it's fine!”

The teen chuckled in response. “I don't think Riot will really care what you wear. He'll just be happy that you're giving him a chance,” he said, patting one of the older man's shoulders.

Starscream turned to him then. “Do you really think so?” he asked, voice smaller than he wanted it to be.

“I know so! Go out there and have a good time. We'll be here to hear all about it when you get back.”

“Thanks,” Starscream said, a slight blush over the bridge of his nose. He stuffed his wallet in his back pocket and headed to the kitchen for a quick shot of liquid courage with the time he had left before the younger man picked him up.

Ratchet had to give the boys a hard time when Riot came to the door. “You're gonna treat my princess right, aren't you?” he teased, a fake glare turned down at the already nervous teen as he waited on the front steps.

“Uh- y-yes sir?” he asked, shoulders hunched.

“And you'll have him home by eleven?” Ratchet asked, stopping to laugh when Gravescour grabbed him by the arm.

“You need to stop,” the teen whined. “They're both nervous enough already!”

“But aren't you worried about our princess, going on his first real date in so long!” the white-haired man faked a swoon, chuckling under his breath at the rolled eyes from Gravescour.

“He'll be out in a minute. Have a good time!” the goth teen said, pulling Ratchet away from the door.

“They giving you a hard time?” Starscream asked not a minute later. He checked his pocket for the spare key Ratchet had given him and closed the door behind himself.

“I'm used to it. Gravescour gives me shit all the time. Now it just seems like it's Ratchet doing the teasing instead.” He paused to give Starscream the once over, trying to be subtle.

The older man noticed anyway and preened a little, happy to be appreciated fully-clothed.

“You look nice,” Riot said. “That scarf is a little big for you, huh? It's Gravescour's, isn't it?” he teased as he opened the passenger side door for the slender man.

“Uh, y-yes,” he stammered, “He thought you'd think it's cute,” he said as he sat.

When Riot got in on his side, he said with a smile, “It is. I like it on you.”

They made small talk on the way to the relatively upscale restaurant, Riot's nervousness that his partner would judge him for having such an old car fading when no comments had been made on it. As they got out, Riot made the offer; “L-let me pick up the tab, please?”

Starscream smiled, he couldn't help himself. “Opening doors for me, and picking up the bill? My, you are taking care of me. Daddy Ratchet will be happy with you.”

The color drained from Riot's face. “C-can we not call him that?”

Starscream saw another opportunity to tease and, as it eased his nerves, went for it. “But Gravescour does,” the older man said. Riot made a noise that had Starscream laughing.

Once they were seated, and the server was aware that their meals were on the same bill, it came time for drink orders. Riot ordered whatever cola they had, and Starscream glanced briefly over the wine menu.

“Would it be alright if I had a drink?” he asked.

Riot bit his lip, the prices of the wines running through his mind. He'd taken long enough that even the server looked over at him and cocked his head. “Y-yeah, sure! Get whatever you want.”

Starscream's devious little smile didn't go unnoticed. Thankfully, he ordered one of the less expensive varieties.

Once the server headed off, they perused the food menus. Riot started to regret wearing a sweater, his nervousness making him feel overheated. After they received their drinks and placed their orders, the awkwardness began. Riot chewed his lip as he tried to find an appropriate subject. When his date's attention started to drift elsewhere, he blurted; “I- I built a one two-hundredth scale SR-71 Blackbird model.” The slender man blinked as the teen blushed and looked down at the table. “It's my favorite. Since you build models too, I thought- well, I thought we could talk about those.” When he looked up, he got to watch Starscream's dumbfounded expression morph into a small smile.

“Sure,” the silver-haired man said. He took his phone from his pocket. “Do you have any pictures? I have a few of my best ones on here.”

“Oh, yeah, I should have a picture or two,” the teen said, taking out his phone. He showed his date the model in question, giving a small, “I'm sorry the paint job is so bad. I'm not really all that great at painting.”

“It's not _bad_ , per se, it just needs a few touch-ups,” Starscream said with a nod and a smile. He handed his phone to the teen. “Swipe left. The next few pictures. He stopped on a picture of three, all the same plane with different color schemes. “You're looking at the F-15s, aren't you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Those have a fun story,” the older man said fondly. “You see, back before the changes to military standard, we used to fly in groups of three. My squad mates and I were all big plane nerds. They both wanted to be mechanics once they finished flying, so model kits were a must,” he said fondly, his red eyes far off as he told the tale. “We all got one of the plane we flew and customized it. For the longest time, we'd bring them with us when we met up.” He looked up and smiled softly when he found the other looking at him. “If you keep scrolling, there's pictures of them at the various places we met.

“We did this until one of their kids broke one of them. We, uh...” He paused to laugh nervously, running his fingers through his hair, “We even held a little funeral ceremony for the toy when it was broken.” He then picked up his wine and took a long pull from it. “We don't meet up anymore. They're too busy with kids and careers. He sighed, frowning slightly. He then perked up the slightest bit. “But hey, at least now I have someone else to nerd out with about planes,” he said, giving a small, almost uneasy smile.

“Yeah, of course!” Riot said happily. “You can also talk to Gravescour. He's not big into planes, but he had a thing for those humanoid robots that came out of the Eastern prefecture for a while, so he understands the joy of building shit.”

Starscream chuckled warmly.

“When we come back from flight school, we should build a plane together,” Riot offered, his shoulders hunched.

“I'd like that,” the older man said. Starscream downed the rest of his wine as the server approached with their food. He asked for another glass and eyed his salmon like a man starved. “So, what's with the glasses?” Starscream asked, making small talk as he knew their waiter would be back before long.

“They're for reading. My eyesight is pretty good, but I thought they went with my outfit and I didn't want to wear my shades to a nice place, and oh god I'm rambling...”

The older man laughed, covering his mouth. “They're cute.”

“No, you,” Riot said reflexively.

“Why thank you!”

Riot's face matched Starscream's heels when the server brought their refills.

“So, why'd you join the AirForce?” the older man asked, cutting a large chunk of asparagus to go with his fish.

“Well, I've always loved planes. I've always loved going fast. I rode horses growing up, and it was thrilling. My dad was actually terrified of me getting a car because he was afraid I'd speed,” he admitted, grinning. “But the sky has always called to me. I always wanted to get behind the controls of a jet. I have so many flight simulators on my computer at home, and I've even tried them out at the base. It's... oh, I'm talking too much.”

“No, you're talking the perfect amount,” Starscream said, smiling brightly.

“Well, why did you do it?”

“Ah,” the silver-haired man looked away. “My father pushed me into it,” he said almost under his breath. “Don't get me wrong! I love flying, and I don't regret it a single bit. I'm living my dream, teaching others to love flying as much as I do, but my dad wasn't the nicest guy.”

Riot frowned. “I'm sorry,” he said, “But I kinda get it. My mom was a miserable bitch who left us when I was, like, ten. Just took my sister and left.”

“Hey,” Starscream said, making an effort to cheer them both up, “At least we have a functioning set of parents between us!”

“Ha. I guess that's true!”

“I do talk to my mom often enough, so it's not like I don't have any parental support.” He swiftly changed the subject. “Sports?”

Riot groaned. “I only like playing sports, but Gravescour makes me watch baseball, and Dad makes me watch football.”

“I'm not much for sports, either, but I don't really mind having them on in the background while I'm doing something,” the older man gave.

Conversation tipped toward the mundane; music, food, friends. They were given more refills as they chatted, told jokes to make each other laugh. At one point, Riot almost jumped out of his chair when he felt something brush his leg. Starscream had to cover his mouth with how hard he laughed.

“Sorry,” the younger mumbled.

“Don't be. It's cute.”

“So, uh, why do you wear heels all the time? I just couldn't help but notice, and, uh, yeah,” he trailed off awkwardly.

“I don't know, really, I'm just more comfortable in them. They might make my feet hurt after a while, but damn do they make my ass look good.”

“I'll say,” Riot added under his breath.

Starscream scoffed, smiling. “How about dessert?” the older man asked. “We can share.”

“Sounds good,” Riot agreed.

They got the biggest piece of chocolate lava cake that they could and playfully fought over it, dueling with their forks, the edge of the plate their boundary.

When the younger man saw the check, he balked, but stuffed his card in the folder anyway. Starscream smirked devilishly. “I'll leave the tip,” he said.

“You don't have to!”

“But I'm going to,” the slender man said as he fished out his wallet.

Neither of them really wanted to head home just yet, but they got in Riot's car.

“I should have brought a cigarette for us to share,” Starscream said off-handedly.

“I have a few. I don't smoke very often, though. It's lost its charm now that it's legal.”

The older man snorted, lighting a smoke from the pack he was handed. Once the butt was tossed out, a silence fell over them. Starscream cleared his throat to work up the courage to do what he wanted to do. He let his hand come to rest on a thick thigh, watching as the other glanced down briefly before looking back at the road. Riot bit his lip and the older man wanted to soothe away that irritation with his tongue. “Does the date have to end so soon?” Starscream asked, a lascivious tone to his voice.

“I- it doesn't, if you don't want it to.”

“I'll text Ratchet, see if you can come in for a while.” When he received no answer by the time they pulled up in the driveway, the older man frowned. “They're probably going at it themselves,” he muttered.

“Time for some payback?” Riot teased, raising a brow.

“Let's see if we can sneak in without them noticing,” the silver-haired man said, grinning wickedly.

Inside, Starscream peeked around corners. Hearing and seeing no one, he took Riot's hand and pulled him along to the guest room. They fell onto the bed together, already wrapped up in each other, petting hair, thighs between legs, lips locked in a heated kiss. Riot wanted to ask Starscream if they could do certain things, but as he struggled to help the slender man out of his button-down, his nerves kept him quiet. He marveled at the chest, finally having the chance to see him in that context. He splayed a hand over the chest before him, then caressed down his sides, earning him a soft sigh.

“You're beautiful,” Riot said breathlessly.

Starscream laughed, throwing Riot's sweater to the floor when he got it off of him. “Whatever you say,” Starscream said, briefly brushing his fingers over the younger man's scars before moving to his pants. “You can flatter me more if you want,” he offered. “I won't complain.”

“I will,” the teen promised. “But first I'd like to kiss you some more, if that's okay.”

“That's more than okay,” Starscream said, wrapping his arms around the thicker man's shoulders. He let himself be rolled onto his back, Riot on top of him. They kissed, slender fingers threaded in white hair as tan fingers unbuckled his partner's belt. Riot pulled back a bit, backed on either side of the older man to look down at him.

“Hey, uh, can I eat you out?” he managed after a long moment.

“Yes,” Starscream hissed, taking his hands from the soft parts of gelled locks to shimmy out of his pants and throw them aside. Somehow, the heels remained on.

Starscream splayed beneath him was a lovely sight that had Riot's dick throbbing. He cast aside all thoughts of burying his prick between the folds that his partner was teasing with long fingers and backed up enough that he could kiss the soft skin. Starscream's happy little sigh gave him the courage to spread the folds with his thumbs and lick a stripe up to the older man's clit. He suckled it for a moment, drinking up the sounds coming from his partner before diving in with his tongue. It was sloppy and wet, but Starscream bucked his hips, enjoying every sensation. Long fingers threaded in white locks to guide him, but he wound up using the grip to hold on for dear life at a younger partner's enthusiasm.

“Oh god, Riot,” he groaned, bucking. The moan from the teen felt like it vibrated up his spine, making him shiver. One leg hooked over Riot's shoulder, spurring him on. The teen spent several long minutes there, just tongue fucking the eager hole before he worked up the courage to bring his fingers into the mix. He teased with a knuckle at first, then dipped one inside. Upon hearing no complaints, he added a second, curling them. Starscream keened. “Yes, yes!” he cried, pulling hard on Riot's hair. The older man yanked him back hard, and Riot moaned. “Do you want to have me this time?”

“Yes,” Riot growled, his head still held back by his partner's grip.

Starscream let go of the hair, spreading his legs farther. He gave a happy little coo when thick thighs settled under his.

“I won't last long,” Riot warned, cupping Starscream's cheek.

“That's fine. I might not either with how worked up you've gotten me,” he said, reaching out to pull the other closer.

The white-haired teen fit their lips together as he pushed inside, groaning into his partner's mouth. His eyes rolled back at the feeling of molten silk on his prick. A hand on his lower back urged him to thrust, and he did so, wrapping an arm under the slender body. The change in angle had Starscream's eyes going wide. He broke the lip-lock to cry out, the pressure hitting him just the right way.

“What- whatever you're doing, keep that up,” the older man demanded, clinging to the other. “Fuck, that feels really good.”

Riot wrapped both arms around the paler body, thrusting hard, dragging his teeth over a thin shoulder. “I can't take much more. Shit, you feel too good,” Riot panted against the skin he'd been worrying. “Can I come inside you?”

“Yes,” the older man gasped out, his insides rippling against the throbbing prick. “Please, I want it. Fill me with your hot cum,” Starscream demanded, hooking his heels behind Riot's back.

The teen bit down on the shoulder as he came, not hard, but enough to keep himself from screaming. He could feel the way his lover's insides squeezed in response to his pulsing length and groaned around the flesh in his mouth. When he came down enough that he no longer had the urge to cry out, he soothed the bitten area with soft kisses.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, fighting for his breath.

“Don't stop,” Starscream urged, pulling with his hooked feet. “Keep fucking me until you're too soft to. I'm so close, please,” he begged, clawing at the darker shoulders.

Riot sat back, taking Starscream's legs in hand, bending the man double so he could pound the quivering, cum-filled hole. Starscream keened, that delightful pressure back. He couldn't believe how good an average-sized prick felt, its perfect curve hitting and dragging against something magnificent. He brought a shaky hand down to rub his clit, the other hand still clinging to the shoulder, leaving crescent-shaped marks in the caramel skin. Riot taking his lips in a forceful kiss pushed him over, and he shouted into his younger partner's mouth as his hips bucked, insides clamping hard on the softening length. Starscream whimpered, but was soothed with the kiss turning tender and languid as Riot pulled out. Dazed, the older man let himself be manhandled into a reclining position, Riot on his side to stroke his partner's hair and side as he came down from his high.

“That was great,” Starscream whispered. He let himself curl up against the thicker man, giving a heavy, relieved sigh when strong arms wrapped around him. “I feel like I need a nap now, though.”

“Only a short one,” Riot said, using his feet to help Starscream kick off his heels. “We wouldn't want the others coming in here and finding us naked, their bed covered in our fluids.”

“Eh,” Starscream said with a very loose shrug, “We don't have anything they haven't seen before. I'll offer to do the laundry if he complains.” With a coo, he closed his eyes, burying himself in the warm chest.

“We're not getting under the blankets?” Riot asked with a chuckle.

“Who needs blankets when you have a warm man to curl up next to?” Starscream asked, his voice small and tired.

Riot beamed, glad to be able to bury his hair in silver locks to hide the expression from the other. “Alright, short nap.”

“‘Kay,” the older man said. “Had fun.”

Outside, Ratchet poured Gravescour another glass of champagne. “I'll let you have another one after we had to listen to that,” he muttered.

The teen laughed. “We'll have to wash the sheets,” he said before tipping the flute up. He leaned against Ratchet's arm, both reclining in lawn chairs and enjoying the fire.

“Oh no. He will wash the sheets,” the white-haired man said, downing his champagne. “I wash enough fluids out of sheets. He can take care of his own,” he grumbled.

“I keep telling you to put a towel down,” Gravescour complained.

“You do, but you're so lovely I have to have you as soon as I get you in the bed.”

The teen rolled his eyes even though he was smiling. “We can keep a stack of towels under the bed. There's room there.”

“Fine,” Ratchet said, pretending to be annoyed. He too was smiling. “We should roast some wieners or something.”

“There's brats in the fridge.”

“There's also beer in there. Let's go get them,” Ratchet said. He groaned as he stood, pouting at the way Gravescour giggled. “Don't give me that crap, I'm old. I’m gonna creak and groan.”

“It's cute,” the teen said, following the older man as he headed inside.

They returned shortly with an armful of items, content to spend the rest of the evening in front of the fire in case Riot and Starscream decided to go at it again. If they had heard them outside, they definitely didn't want to be inside if they chose to be intimate again.

* * *

In the morning, Starscream was the first to wake. Seeing sunlight pouring in through the slats of the blinds, he cursed himself for letting a short nap turn into a full night's rest. Though, the only one awake and looking at his sleeping lover, he could admit to himself that he'd needed that. All of it. The date, the sex, the sleep; it was a list of things he hadn't had in a while. He'd even cuddled. Megatron usually just laid an arm out and let Starscream curl against him, but Riot had actually held him and it felt nice.

He traced the scars on his partner's chest with one finger, appreciating the small lines that only served to accentuate the teen's pecs. He was lost in lazy morning thoughts until he realized what woke him. His phone was going off with texts. Starscream didn't want to get up, but he figured Ratchet was already chewing him out over messing up his sheets, so he pried himself from the comfortable softness and grabbed his pants so he could check his phone. His heart sank when he realized who the texts were from. He would have preferred being chewed out by Ratchet.

_I want to fix this. I'm ready to talk._

_Please call me when you can._

Starscream threw his phone back on his pile of clothes. He lay back down for a moment, looking at his younger lover. He pushed black-and-white bangs out of the teen's face and caressed a warm cheek. He sighed. “Hey,” he said softly.

Instead of answering, the younger man wrapped an arm around the older man and pulled him close.

The slender man giggled. “Come on now, get up.”

“My dick is up,” Riot mumbled, kissing a shoulder.

“I can feel that,” Starscream assured him. “But I need to go soon, and I don't want to leave while you're still half asleep and have you think I left you out of the blue.”

Riot then sat up. He rubbed his eyes, then blinked at his partner. “What time is it? I have to be home this afternoon to do yard work, but I was hoping we could have breakfast together,” he mumbled.

“It's around eleven,” Starscream answered. “I'm sorry, Riot, but I do need to get going.”

“But why,” the teen whined.

The older man chuckled. Then his face fell when he realized he'd have to explain why he had to leave. “Megatron wants to talk.”

“Fuck that. Stay and have breakfast. Gravescour makes awesome pancakes.”

“I know, he's made them for me before.” He waited a long moment before speaking again. “I wouldn't be too worried about Megatron. He's never been able to fix things,” Starscream said, not sure what possessed him to say that.

“Then stay,” Riot whined.

“I can't. We'll see each other plenty in school, I promise.”

“Fine,” Riot said with a puffy-cheeked pout.

“Eat an extra pancake for me, okay?” Starscream asked as he started to dress.

“Can do,” the teen agreed.

Starscream snuck out, attempting to get out without being heard.

“You had fun last night,” Ratchet teased, his voice low and quiet. “Don't be too loud, I have a headache.”

“I won't be. In fact, I'm leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Ratchet asked, peering out into the kitchen to make sure Gravescour wasn't listening.

“M-Megatron wants to talk,” he whispered.

Ratchet sighed heavily. “He's gonna just say the same shit as always.”

“I know. If he does, I'll be back.”

“I hope to see you back here soon,” Ratchet said, getting up from the couch to give his slender friend a brief hug. “Not just for your sake anymore,” he whispered as they embraced.

Starscream pulled back, forced a small smile and hurried out, ashamed.

When Ratchet turned back toward the kitchen, he saw Gravescour standing in the archway, spatula in hand and frowning. “He's going back to Megatron, isn't he?”

Ratchet said nothing, but the teen didn't need him to.

“I'll make chocolate chip pancakes for Riot,” he said, turning to head back to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun mini fact: as a proper Cybertronian, Riot is a Blackbird like the model he built.
> 
> Comments and crits welcome.


	18. Chapter 18

Starscream drove to a gas station and sat in the parking lot. He stared at his phone for a long moment before finding it within himself to make the call. He put it up to his ear, dread filling him with each ring.

“Starscream.” His partner's deep voice sounded full of relief. “My love, I'm so happy to hear from you.” His voice was breathy, and it made the younger man's chest ache. He swallowed the lump that built up in his throat before he spoke, trying to be firm.

“Well? Did you come up with any ideas?”

“I did,” Megatron said.

Starscream could hear him nodding, pictured his eyes closed and a soft smile on his face.

“I think I found a plan that will fix all of this if you will accept my apology and hear me out?”

“I will- I will at least listen to your idea,” Starscream granted, the hand holding the phone trembling slightly.

The older man gave a relieved sigh. “Thank you, my love. Please come home so we can talk in person.” Starscream hesitated then. “Starscream?”

“I- I'll be home in an hour.”

“I can't wait to see you,” Megatron purred.  
  


* * *

  
When Riot arrived home, he noticed another car in the driveway and groaned. He shut off the engine and dragged his feet as he headed to the door. He didn't want to deal with anything else that day, not after learning that his crush was going back to his abusive partner after the wonderful day they'd had. Even if it was only temporary, he didn't want Megatron to have a chance to lure Starscream away. He nearly ran face-first into a broad chest as he walked through the door.

“Oh! Hello, Riot!” Optimus greeted, taking hold of the boy by his shoulders so they wouldn't collide. The older man was blushing for reasons the teen didn't want to speculate on.

“Optimus,” he greeted, frowning slightly.

“I certainly hope you are well on this lovely day,” the bluenette rambled awkwardly.

“I'm fine. I suppose you must be, too.” He couldn't help but tease, feeling the slightest bit malicious.

Optimus made a sound akin to a laugh. “I am doing wonderfully,” he said. “But, unfortunately I must be going. Have a good day.”

With that, the man hurried out the door.

Thrush stood in the archway that led to the living room, his face red with the effort it took not to laugh.

“I guess I should be glad I spent the night at Gravescour's, huh?” Riot deadpanned.

“Well, you weren't home, so I called over a friend to have some fun of my own.”

“Dad, no,” Riot groaned.

“Hey! I'm an adult,” Thrush grumbled. “I can have a little fun if I want to,” he trailed off for a moment. “Well, go ahead and change and we'll get to work.”  
  


* * *

  
After everyone had left, Ratchet hugged Gravescour from behind. “Turn off the water,” Ratchet said softly. “I'll do the dishes later,” he promised.

The teen shut off the water and dried his hands on a dish towel while Ratchet laid his head against the younger man's shoulder. Once dry, he turned in the older man's embrace and wrapped his arms around him, holding the back of his head as he rested against a slender shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Ratchet mumbled, “I just need a little affection.”

Gravescour's grip tightened. “I'll call off and stay home with you today,” the teen offered.

Ratchet pulled back, even though the younger man tried to keep him in place. “No. Absolutely not,” the white-haired man said with a shake of his head. “I will not be responsible for you losing your job.” He stood up straight. “I'll be fine. I'll probably just have a few beers and wait for Starscream. Don't worry about me.”

Gravescour frowned deeply. “You look like you're about to cry,” the teen pointed out.

Ratchet quickly checked his face for tears. His shoulders then sagged and he let his young lover embrace him again. “I might be,” the man admitted, clinging to the smaller body. “I'm just afraid he won't come back.”

“We'll get him back, I promise.”

“I hope you can follow through on that,” the white-haired man mumbled, burying his face in the thin neck.

“It may take a while, but we'll get him away from that creep. First, let me call my boss.”  
  


* * *

  
When Starscream returned home, he stopped at the door. His hand shook as it hovered an inch or two from the door's handle. He thought of all the things the older man could offer him to stay, and couldn't come up with anything that could beat the fun he'd had with Riot. Getting to know someone new hadn't been as scary as he'd previously thought. Sure, the boy was young, but he'd get to watch him grow into a fine man, a strong soldier, a proud pilot over the next few years if he took a shot with him. Maybe the boy would grow tired of him after a few years, but he'd have fun in the process. He could get his own place, work out the last three years of service he needed to pretty much be set for life and most importantly, he'd be free of the cycle of addiction and recovery he went through with the brunette every few months. But, he thought, he gave Megatron his word that he'd hear him out, so he soldiered on, grabbing the handle and pushing the door open. He steeled himself for whatever he may come up against inside.

Megatron stood up from the couch as the younger man closed the door behind him. Starscream looked up and his lips parted. The older man was wearing cargo shorts and a tight white t-shirt. He looked handsome, the slender man admitted to himself, brown locks ungelled and wild.

“Starscream,” the man said, gathering the slender man in his arms. “I've missed you so much.” The younger man didn't return the embrace. Megatron pulled back and looked him over. “Have you eaten yet? Are you tired?”

“I'm fine. Just tell me your idea,” Starscream managed.

“Right,” the older man said, straightening up. “Let's have a seat and talk.” He led Starscream to the kitchen, pulling out a chair for him.

The younger man sat, his whole body tight. He saw papers on the table and already his heckles were raised. “I'm not retiring, Megatron,” he bit out.

“I'm not asking you to. Not yet, anyway,” the older man said, his meaty paws coming to rest on the tense shoulders. “That's just for later, after we start our family,” he said, digging his thumbs into sore muscles as he spoke.

Starscream moaned, enjoying the massage for a good few minutes before his partner's words sank in. He blinked. “Wait, what?” He whined when the massive hands stopped rubbing, but his eyes widened as Megatron walked around and took a knee in front of him.

“Starscream,” he started, pulling a box from one of the bigger pockets of his shorts. He opened it to reveal a ring with massive stones. The younger man balked. Surely the ring weighed nearly half a pound with its ornate set pattern. “I want to start over. I want to do this relationship the way it should have been done. Flowers, dates, expensive wine, the whole nine yards. I want to have a family with you. We can start trying for our first child once you get back from flight school,” he said, holding eye contact with the shocked younger man. “And I won't ask you to retire until your three years are up. You can still work a desk job while you're pregnant. Yes, I asked. I've had a long talk with corporal Kup about it, and he's more than happy to adjust things so you can carry our children and still get the last three years you need in.

“I will be the one to retire,” he said, giving a lopsided grin, clearly proud of himself. “In a year and a half, I will have thirty years of service under my belt, and we will never want for a thing. I will stay home with the kids during the week while you finish out your service, and you can watch them on the weekends while I volunteer,” he offered, his tone soft. “For all my faults, I am deeply sorry. I love you, Starscream, and I want us to be a family.”

The younger man couldn't breathe. His heart was in his throat as he struggled for breath, bringing a hand to his chest, trying to calm himself. “First...?” he managed after a long, heart-pounding moment. “F-family?”

Everything he'd hoped for in his relationship with Megatron had been laid out before him. He struggled to breathe, his breath choppy and short. Megatron put a soothing hand on his thigh. The man was smiling. A soft thing that hid his sharp teeth and cheating tendencies.

“You don't have to answer now. You have the entire winter season to consider it,” the brunette offered mildly. “But why don't you try on the ring? Why don't you try on the ring? Why don't you wear it while we make love?” he suggested, his voice taking on a lascivious tone. “I know we won't be making those babies any time soon, but it doesn't hurt to practice.”

Shaky fingers pried the hefty ring from the box. He almost dropped it, but the older man caught him, helping him fir the band on his finger.

“It's a good fit,” he purred. “Come upstairs with me,” he cooed as he stood. He took an abnormally pliant hand and led the silver-haired man to their bedroom.

Once inside, he pulled the too-willing body close and kissed the man deeply. Starscream was moaning and clinging to the tight shirt by the time the kiss was broken.

“I've missed you, my love,” he growled, getting massive paws under the shirt his partner wore. He pulled it up over his head and cast it aside. His own went flying before he started peppering kisses over his slender partner's exposed flesh.

“I- I've missed you, too,” Starscream said, long fingers tracing scars, relearning the bumps and dips of muscles.

“I'm sorry I've been gone so long,” Megatron said between kisses to the pale skin. “I suppose I just got comfortable with our relationship how it was and lost sight of the end goals,” he gave, popping the button of the trembling man's jeans.

Before long they stood before each other, naked and erect. Starscream was already leaking down the inside of his thighs, his fluids shining in the overhead lights.

“You're beautiful,” Megatron whispered, teasing the moist folds with two fingers.

Starscream shuddered and collapsed into a broad chest. A sturdy arm wrapped around him, holding him tightly as he fingered his squirming lover open.

“You've missed me too, I see,” he purred.

“Yes, yes!” Starscream gasped, fucking himself on the thick digits. Megatron chuckled warmly.

“Why don't you grab a cute pair of panties to put on so I have something to hold on to while I fill you with my children?” the older man purred the question right into a sensitive ear, grinning when the smaller body shuddered, hole clenching hard around his fingers.

Starscream didn't want the stimulation to stop, but he reluctantly walked to the dresser when the fingers withdrew. His hole felt so empty that he couldn't help touching himself while he dug through the drawer for a lacy undergarment with his free hand. Finding a pair he liked, he slipped them on. The crotch was soaked by the time he returned to his lover.

“You look great,” Megatron appreciated, running a finger over the hem of the garment. “Lay back on the bed, my love. I'll grab some lube, since I know you didn't take a toy with you this time.”

Starscream did as told, laying on the bed and spreading his legs. He watched the older man eagerly as he rubbed himself through the wet fabric.

“Surely your pussy has gotten so tight, going so many weeks without my huge cock to pleasure it,” the bigger man said as he spread lube over three of his fingers. His length ached, having gone several days without, but he fully intended to stretch his lover open, knowing he couldn't risk hurting him if he wanted to him to stay. He sat the lube on the table and knelt on the bed. “So eager,” he praised, pushing the fabric aside to shove two fingers back in. He watched as Starscream's back arched, a moan escaping both of them.

Soon, the younger man was held open on three fingers, and before long, four. The slender body writhed on the thick digits, making a mess of his lover's hand and the duvet, but neither cared in the moment.

“If you came,” the older man rasped, “it would be much easier for me to fit my dick inside you.” He proceeded to thumb the exposed clit, a growl building up in his throat at the way the slender body under his bucked and moaned. “Yes, my love. Come on my fingers so you can come on my cock. I can't wait to be inside you, fill you with my children. Our children.”

Starscream couldn't place why, but the words made him seize up, the thumb assaulting his clit pushing him over the edge. He cried out with his orgasm. Thrashing on the fingers that continued to work his insides for a long minute. He sagged back to the bed when his lover removed them. Even though he'd just come, he felt oddly empty. He wiggled his hips, hoping to entice the older man to fill him faster.

“My, you're impatient,” the brunette teased, drizzling lube over his throbbing length. He gave a little growl when he stroked himself to spread it. “Only a moment longer and I'll have you squirming on my dick, beautiful boy,” he promised, settling himself between slender legs.

He held the drenched fabric aside to watch the hole clenching on nothing for a moment, then lined himself up with the wanting passage. He teased for a bit, pushing against the giving skin but not penetrating. He waited until his partner choked out a “please!” before popping the head inside. Starscream's relief was momentary, as Megatron pulled out. He repeated the action a few times, just pushing in enough to allow the hole to clench around the head before withdrawing.

“Please!” Starscream begged, trying to push back on the length the next time it penetrated him. “I need it! Please give me your cock! Fill me with your babi-” The younger man cut himself off with a choked groan when Megatron shoved in. He worked half his cock in and out of the tight hole, already on edge from his partner's begging for it. Soon, he was thrusting the whole length in and out, leaning over Starscream so the younger man could cling.

“I'm already so fucking close,” Megatron growled. “Your horny pussy hasn't been fucked in so long, it's so fucking tight. I hope you're ready for this load. It's going to be huge,” he hissed. “I haven't even touched myself in several days.”

Starscream cried out, shoving himself back on the length as it throbbed. He squeezed as hard as he could, silently begging for it.

“Oh fuck, Starscream,” the brunette groaned, his whole body shuddering as he came. Starscream whined, the pulsing seemed never ending.

Megatron thrust shallowly as the warm flood filled his partner, both giving satisfied groans. The older man took a brief pause to recover, then started to pound the hole again without a word. Starscream huffed out a few curses, his hands pushing at Megatron's chest as the renewed assault made his pussy throb.

“I'm going to have to fill you to bursting if I want to get you pregnant,” Megatron cooed, grabbing his partner's legs to hold them up. He watched his cock disappear inside the spasming passage, the clenching spurred on by his words. “I'm gonna need to fill this pussy over and over with load after load of my cum to make sure I knock you up.” Starscream cried out, squirming. “Oh? Is your horny little pussy going to come at the thought of getting pregnant?” Megatron had to pause his dirty talk to groan, the clamping hole already threatening to wring a second orgasm out of him. “It is!” he gasped, holding the ankles tightly to fuck the passage harder. “God, Starscream, getting off on the thought of carrying my children.”

“Yes! Yes, please!” the younger man begged. “Oh god, harder, I'm so close! Fuck my pussy! Knock me up and make me yours! Breed me!”

The surprising dirty talk ripped a shout from Megatron's throat. He pushed into the tight hole, erupting once more inside his smaller lover, groaning as the younger man keened. The body quivered with its own orgasm, rippling hole milking the massive dick of its seed for a second time. After they took a moment to breathe, Megatron reached between them to play with Starscream's clit.

“Again?” the younger man asked, even though his body happily jerked into the touch.

“I don't think I've knocked you up yet,” the brunette teased, “And I still have plenty of cum to empty into your baby-hungry womb.”

Starscream shouted as another orgasm ripped through him, forced on him by the fingers roughly flicking his clit.

“Yes,” Megatron hissed, “Milk my dick, sweet boy. Take my fucking cum and let me see that belly swell.” Fully hard already, Megatron resumed shoving his dick as deep as his partner could take him, pleased that his fluids hadn't spilled from the hole yet.

After another load, Starscream whimpered. He followed Megatron's gaze to his belly and noticed what had his partner's rapt attention. He had a little bulge. His partner had filed him so much that his belly had to swell to hold it all. The slender man couldn't contain himself. He pushed back on the engorged length still inside him. He was ready to come just seeing his own rounding belly.

“More!” he demanded, locking his ankles behind the older man's thick torso. “Fill me with so much cum that my birth control can't handle it,” he said, knowing it sounded ridiculous. He was too close to another orgasm to care. Apparently Megatron was too, if the way he groaned was any indication.

“Fuck,” the scarred man groaned, caressing the swollen belly. He moved that hand lower, thumbing the tender nub. “Help me out,” he growled. “Come on my dick. Come on my dick while I unload my babies inside your needy hole. I'll make your slutty womb overflow,” he hissed, pushing deep. He moved his hands to slender hips to hold Starscream still while he pumped more seed into his partner, watching his belly subtly swell that much more. “Fuck!” he bit out when the hole started rippling, his lover trying to squirm in his grip. “Yes, come for me,” he cooed.

He sat back, still keeping his partner plugged up with his stiff but softening prick, to rub his belly through his orgasm. After a minute, Starscream slapped his hand away, over-sensitized.

“Too much, my love? Should I pull out?” Megatron asked, gently rubbing the thighs on either side of him.

“Please?” Starscream asked between gasps for breath. “I'm sorry if I overstimulated you, my love,” the older man said as he carefully slipped out. He reached over to the side of the bed to grab his own shirt, laying it out under Starscream for when he started to leak. The younger man was touched, remembering all the times his clothes had been used to mop up their messes. Never before had the older man used his own. Until now. Maybe he really did intend to change, the slender man thought as Megatron lay next to him.

“You seemed to be enjoying it,” he teased, letting a hand come to rest on the other's chest.

“I did,” Starscream admitted, letting the bigger man pull him into a hug.

“I'm glad to hear it,” the brunette said, kissing the red stripe in silver locks. “I love you.”

Starscream hesitated for a moment, but Megatron's hands just kept tenderly stroking him. “I- I love you, too.”  
  


* * *

  
After a few hours with not so much as a text from Starscream, Ratchet did give in to tears. He buried his face in a lean shoulder as they lay on the couch, ashamed of himself. He muttered a curse or an apology every so often, and his young partner simply soothed him and promised everything would work out each time.

“I hope to god you're right,” he said. “I really fucking do, but I'm so scared that one of these days he's gonna get himself killed going back to that jackass.” Ratchet sat up and Gravescour went with him, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears. A larger hand caught a lean wrist, holding the hand to his cheek. “He says Megatron's never hit him, but I see those cigar burns. I see him limping when he's been too rough,” he trailed off. He pulled away from the teen and reached for his phone on the coffee table. “I'm gonna text him one more time. If he doesn't answer, I'll call him,” he explained as he typed out a message. Ratchet let the younger man hold him while he waited, staring at his phone.

Half an hour passed, and Ratchet sat his phone on the table before him, his hands in his hair.

“I'm going to call him,” the older man said, still looking at the small device.

“If you feel like that's what you need to do, go ahead. I'm right here,” Gravescour offered, a hand on the jean-clad thigh.

With a heavy sigh, Ratchet once more picked up his phone. He selected his friend's contact and put the phone to his ear. It rang a few times, and when it was answered, Ratchet's lips turned up in a snarl. “Megatron,” he growled, “Why do you have Starscream's phone?”

Gravescour could hear the response as his partner had gone deathly silent.

“Starscream is sleeping right now. I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't wake him up.”

“You son of a bitch,” Ratchet hissed, standing from the sofa and walking away toward the kitchen. “You wake his ass up and put him on this instant. He promised to contact me, and he hasn't yet.”

Gravescour couldn't hear the reply, but it definitely got under Ratchet's skin. The teen stood cautiously but didn't more closer.

“Husband my ass, you waste of good organs. Put. Starscream. On.” Ratchet ground his teeth as he listened to what the other was saying. “Yeah fucking right!” Another pause. “I don't know what you did to him to get him to agree to that, but I will find out, and I will-”

A brief silence.

“Fuck you! If I could, I'd break off your dick and shove it up your ass, you fucking shitbag!” Ratchet reared back and threw his phone across the room. It hit the wall in the kitchen, shattering, if the noises that followed were any indication. The older man drew in a deep breath to yell, but he caught a glimpse of a scared teen out of the corner of his eye. Instead of shouting his frustration, he simply sighed. He sagged into the armchair Starscream always occupied when he visited and pulled at his own short hair. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, shoulders shaking.

Gravescour approached slowly. He dropped to his knees in front of the trembling man, lifting a hand to gently touch the side of his arm. A tear dripped from the end of Ratchet's nose, and he grit his teeth, eyes closed tightly.

“Shit,” he mumbled, sniffling.

“What happened?” Gravescour asked after a long moment of just kneeling there, a hand on his lover's arm. He yelped when he was pulled into a tight hug, between Ratchet's legs. The older man cried into his plaid-clad shoulder, hands fisted in the back of the loose shirt for several minutes before he could speak.

“He- he said they're getting bonded and starting a family,” he managed, pulling back to wipe his face with his own sleeve.

Gravescour chewed his lip, helping his partner clean his face. “You can't really believe that, can you?” he asked, gently caressing the light stubble on his partner's jaw.

“I- I don't know. That piece of shit can talk him into anything,” Ratchet grumbled.

“He's probably just lying to get under your skin,” the teen said, pulling Ratchet's face down to his level with a careful grip on the sides of his face. He placed a gentle kiss on the older man's nose, then offered a small smile. Ratchet tried to return the gesture, but his heart wasn't in it.

“Megatron is a raging piece of shit, but he's not a liar to my knowledge. The whole reason he and Optimus broke up was because he came clean about cheating on him. That kid thought the sun shined out of Megatron's ass. He would have believed him if he'd said he hadn't, but here we are.” Ratchet leaned into the touch when Gravescour scratched his stubble. Blue-green eyes finally opened. “I'm sorry you have to see me like this,” he said, giving a tired frown. “You shouldn't have to put up with my outbursts.”

The teen scoffed. “That's part of why I'm here,” Gravescour said, leaning up so he could wrap his arms around the thicker body. “I love you. The good and the bad.”

“You deserve better,” he mumbled.

The younger man laughed. “That may be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,” the teen said, unable not to laugh despite the serious situation. “You're great, Ratchet. You care about me, about the people around you, you're great in bed, handsome,” the older man laughed when his partner trailed off.

“Alright, that's enough flattery,” he said, still sniffling. “I just hope that the good will outshine the bad in the long run.”

“I'm sure it will,” Gravescour said, finally able to give a real smile. “Especially after we break them up and Star gets with Riot. You'll have a lot less to be stressed out about then.”

“I wanna know how you got so optimistic. Seriously,” Ratchet said, pulling the teen back into his chest. “I had a great childhood. Anything that has ever gone wrong in my life was from either that plan crash or Megatron's inability to keep his dick in his pants, and I'm still a grumpy old man. How did you suffer for so long and still wind up so wonderful, huh?”

“Well, I made it to-”

The doorbell rang, stopping him mid-sentence.

“That can't be Starscream, can it?” Ratchet asked.

“I doubt it,” Gravescour said. “Do you wanna go wash your face and I'll get the door?”

“Sure,” the older man said, standing, helping the lean man up with him. “Thank you,” he said and stole a quick kiss before hurrying off to the bathroom.

When he returned, he blinked a few times. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Next to Gravescour on the couch was an older woman in a lacy black dress. She had long black hair, pulled up in an ornate bun. She wore her makeup almost exactly the same way the teen used to wear his to the bar. Had Ratchet not met his mother, he would have been able to believe that this woman was Gravescour's mother.

“Hello,” she greeted cheerfully, waving a long-nailed hand. She turned to the boy. “Gravescour, is this your father?”

Ratchet blushed furiously as his partner laughed.

“No, Miss Airachnid, this is my partner. The one I told you about when I called off this morning.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed and laughed. “Do forgive me,” she said, looking at Ratchet. “I'm sure you understand how the mistake was made.”

“Y-yes, ma'am,” he said, looking away.

“Don't be shy! It doesn't bother me a bit. Personally, I'd love my own barely-legal that is as devoted to me as young Gravescour here is to you,” she said, laying a dainty hand on the boy's shoulder. “Come, have some coffee and doughnuts. I thought I might try to cheer you up, since I need my best cookie-maker back as soon as possible,” she said, splaying those long-nailed fingers at the boxes and cups on the table.

“Um, thank you,” Ratchet said, a bit confused. He got a cup of the sugary drink she brougt despite his nervousness, and sat in the armchair to try to enjoy it.

“Please,” Airachnid started, opening the box to reveal a small selection of goods from her store, “Have one of the chocolate ones. Chocolate is a natural anti-depressant, you know.”

Ratchet looked at Gravescour for assistance, but the teen just gave a helpless shrug.

“Gravescour, dear, I brought you one of the lemon wedge cakes you like so much. I figured you'd need a boost, too.”

“Ooh,” the teen said, reaching for it immediately. “Thank you, Miss Airachnid,” he said before taking a large bite.

She laughed. “I will go to the ends of Cybertron for my best bakers. Why, just a few weeks ago, Moonracer, my best cake-maker, had to attend some family member's wedding. She showed me what she planned on wearing, and I couldn't have her ruin some woman's special day looking all frumpy in the flowered dress she was planning on wearing. Those pictures would have looked terrible! So I took her shopping on my own dime, and found her a nice dress, so she could look good without outshining the bride. I did her hair and makeup myself before she left. I had to hold back though, because if I had gone all-out, she most certainly would have looked better than the bride!” And she tittered. Neither of the men knew wy, but they were entranced by her tale. “Please, have a treat. Ratchet, was it?”

“Yes ma'am,” he said, finally reaching out for a sweet. He picked up a brownie. It was delicious. When he said as much, Airachnid beamed.

“I made those myself,” she said. She looked back at Gravescour, who had resumed eating his cake. “If I'd known you liked older partners, I would have taken a shot at you before you got with him.”

Both men choked on their sweets.

“Ah, but you two seem so happy together, so I would never mess with something like that,” she said as she poured herself some of the coffee. “So, tell me about this friend of yours, Ratchet.”

For reasons he couldn't explain, he wanted to tell her.

Twenty minutes and a donut later, she rubbed a finger under her lip in thought. “That is quite a pickle,” she said. “Have you considered recording the way he speaks to you, and letting your friend hear it later?”

“I doubt it would help, but I can try that,” the older man said.

“Good,” she said with a nod. “In the meantime, I suggest you have your friend see a psychologist. If his partner is Air Force as well and can pull some strings to see his files, going that route wouldn't be the best idea. However...” She smirked, “Luckily for your friend, I know a great shrink he can see, who absolutely will not allow anyone else access to his information. I'll make sure you are listed as his emergency contact instead of that dreadful man he is with.”

Ratchet and Gravescour looked at each other for a long moment, then turned their attention back to Airachnid. “I really doubt that he'd go for that, but I will talk to him about it,” Ratchet promised.

“That's all I ask,” she said. “Oh, and that you keep me informed. Unfortunately, I must take my leave now. I need to take care of a few things before I turn in for the night.” She stood, and so did the others. “Help yourself to the rest of the sweets. I hope to see you tomorrow, Gravescour,” she said, giving his shoulder a little pat.

Ratchet opened the door for her and she gave a slight bow before leaving, waving back at them as she did. When Ratchet closed the door behind her, he just stood there for a long moment, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Are you alright?” the teen asked.

“I think so,” Ratchet said slowly. “I can't tell if I like your boss or not. She seems nice, but she certainly likes to hear herself talk,” he trailed off.

Gravescour laughed. “Yeah, she does. She's kinda nosy, but she has everyone's best interest at heart,” he said. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little bit, yeah. I feel kinda foolish for smashing my phone, but that's to be expected,” he said, a slight frown on his face.

“Tomorrow morning, I'll text Star and tell him to text me if he needs to get in contact with you.”

“I'll get my phone replaced tomorrow, if I can. I need you to be able to call me, too.”

“I'll be okay for one day,” the teen said, walking over to take his partner's arm. “For now, let's get this place cleaned up and get some rest. It's been a long day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome!


	19. Chapter 19

The next day, Gravescour made breakfast for Ratchet and left it on the table covered with a paper towel and a note, saying that he deserved to sleep in and to have a great day. He signed it with a heart and slipped out the door, heading off for work.

Around lunchtime, to Gravescour's surprise, Riot wandered in. The teen had come out to take orders while his new batches of cookies were in the oven. Seeing his friend with messy hair and bags under his eyes had him frowning. Luckily, Riot was the only one in line, as the others had already been helped by Airachnid or the barista, who was currently on her break.

“Hey, man,” Gravescour greeted.

“Hey,” he said back.

“Need some chocolate after what happened yesterday?”

“Yeah, but I'm not here for myself,” Riot said, giving a weak smile. “Dad wanted me to come get him a dozen of your cookies, since he hasn't had his fix in a couple weeks,” he explained.

Airachnid moved closer as the boys talked and Gravescour rung up the order. “Is this Starscream?” the older woman asked quietly. Riot still heard and he peeked up, blinking.

“No, this is my best friend, Riot. He has a crush on Starscream.”

“Dude,” the white-haired teen complained, his shades blending in with his face as it reddened.

Airachnid looked him over, deep in thought.

“Can I sneak him an extra cookie?” Gravescour asked.

“Just a cookie?” she asked, her hand to her chest as if she was offended. “Give him a brownie and a piece of cake, too. Especially if he's in on the plot to get that friend of yours away from the abusive asshole.”

Riot's lips parted as he stared at her, blinking slowly.

She winked. “We overprice things so I can get away with doing stuff like this,” she said, just loud enough for the teens to hear. “But you-” She pointed a long-nailed finger at Riot, “didn't hear that. Understand?”

“Uh, yes- yes ma'am,” he sputtered. He paid for his dad's order and waited by the counter for it, being presented with much more than he'd bought.

Soon, the barista came back, and Airachnid bumped her hip against Gravescour's. “Isn't it about time for your fifteen?” she asked, winking again.

“Yes, thank you,” Gravescour said, shucking his apron to run off after Riot.

Outside, the boy's shared a couple cigarettes as they talked.

“Starscream texted me this morning,” the shorter man started, his voice heavy and tired. “He said he had a great time, but he was going to try to work things out with Megatron. That he'd keep me updated, but not to hold out hope or some shit.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I want to go punch Megatron in the dick, but I can't,” Riot said angrily. “I guess I'll just keep trying. Be nice or some shit so he'll eventually realize there's better options out there.” Riot sighed out smoke.

“Ratchet and I will help, I promise,” Gravescour said, nudging the other's shoulder with his knuckles.

“I hope you guys have some ideas, because I'm tapped.”

“We do, actually. I'll text you after work, so keep your chin up. Everything will work out.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Optimistic,” Riot said with a shake of his head. “When you off?”

“Five,” he said and laughed. “I have a real nine-to-five now! Just today, though. Usually I do closing shifts. Noon to eight.”

“Good to know,” Riot said. “Text me when you get home. I'm gonna go drown my sorrows in these sweets until then.”

“Hey,” the younger teen said.

Riot turned to look and he grunted as he was pulled into a hug.

“This will work out,” he said firmly.

“I hope so,” Riot muttered when he finally returned the embrace.  
  


* * *

  
When Gravescour got home, he found Ratchet in the kitchen. “Hey,” he greeted, dumping a bag of cookies on the table. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” the older man said, turning with a pan in hand, holding it with oven mitts. “I made dinner for once.”

“Ooh, what'd ya make?”

“Don't get too excited, it's only meatloaf,” Ratchet said, taking the lid off of the container.

“I love meatloaf,” the goth teen said, earning a raised red brow. “What?”

“I've never met someone under forty that loved meatloaf,” he said suspiciously.

“I aspire to be as abnormal as humanly possible,” the teen said, giving a slight bow. His partner smiled.

“I suppose I should be grateful for that,” he said. “There's green beans, too, since you've got me eating healthy again for some reason.

“I eat healthy because I can't let Riot get too much stronger than me. You can eat whatever you want,” the younger man defended.

Ratchet chuckled. “I like your food,” he said. “I just wanted to try to do something nice to try to thank you.”

“I appreciate it,” Gravescour said. “Would you mind if I used your computer while we ate?”

“Uh, sure? Just keep your drink away from it. What's so important that it can't wait until after we eat?”

“Need to load Riot with ideas on how to win Starscream's heart,” he explained, raising his voice so the other could hear as he ran off to grab the laptop.

“Alright, I guess that warrants using the computer during dinner,” the older man said with an amused chuckle.

Gravescour returned with his partner's computer in one hand, texting with the other. His phone rang as he opened the computer and logged on. He put Riot on speaker and tossed his phone on the table. “Hi, Riot! Say hello to Ratchet!”

“Uh, hello?”

“Hi there,” the white-haired man greeted. “So, how are you going to win Starscream's heart with my computer?”

“Ask Gravescour,” the voice on the phone said.

“Well?”

“We're going to find him gifts!” Gravescour cheered.

“Megatron buys him gifts all the time,” Ratchet said, his lips pursed.

“Not gifts he'd actually like, through. Alright, I'm going to email you some links, alright, Riot?”

“Uh, sure? What do you think I'm going to be able to afford that will impress him?”

“CreCo plushies! Cute clothes!” the teen cheered around a mouthful of meatloaf. “Mmm, this is really good, Ratchet.”

“Thanks,” the man said, the tips of his ears turning red.

“I could get maybe one plushie,” Riot said, his voice fading a bit in his sadness.

“Bruh, I'll help you out. You can pay me back when you get your funding, or your signing bonus, or whatever.”

“Shit, I could just buy it for ya and you don't even have to pay me back,” Ratchet said. “Just get Starscream away from Megatron.”

“I'll do my best, sir,” Riot said, his voice sounding a little watery. There was a muffled sound as he pulled the phone away from his face to hide his sniff.

“Let's do this! You said he liked model airplanes, right?”

“Yeah, he does,” Riot said, touched that the others would help him like they were, even if Ratchet's main concern was saving Starscream from Megatron. That was perfectly fine with the older teen, since it was his goal, too.  
  


* * *

  
“I wish you could stay longer,” Megatron purred the following Monday morning as Starscream made one last check of his bag.

“I do, too,” the younger man admitted, looking up from the pocket of the suitcase he'd been digging through. “You should go back to bed. It's just past four,” Starscream said, zipping up the bag. He walked over to the bulky man, folding himself into the embrace when it was offered.

“I can't. The bed will be so lonely without you,” the man cooed, holding the slender body tight.

“I'll be back on the weekends,” Starscream said, giving a sigh into the cotton-clad chest.

“I'll wait impatiently,” the brunette promised, finally letting go. He saw Starscream to the door and they parted ways with a kiss. He watched from the door as the younger man walked to his car with a spring in his step.  
  


* * *

  
“Hey, Gravescour!” Arcee called as she and Optimus walked up to the counter. “So this is where you've been working!” she said, grinning. “Ratchet said you had a job, but wouldn't tell me where! Making cookies for this place?”

“Yes, ma'am, and taking orders,” he said with a smile. “What can I get for you?”

Arcee looked up at Optimus with a raised brow. “I was just gonna get a mango smoothie, but heck, throw one of your cookies on there, too,” she said, still clearly very amused.

“If you have a dozen available, I will take them,” Optimus said, giving a small smile. “I will put them in the staff room for others to enjoy.” He gave his order and insisted on paying for the both of them. They made small talk for a bit, then took their orders to a table to eat.

“Geez, are all of your friends older?” Airachnid couldn't help but tease, just to see the boy's face light up with a blush.

While walking home, the teen texted Riot that Optimus and Arcee had come into the café. The response was almost immediate:

 _OMG that guy is fucking EVERYWHERE_. Another followed shortly: _Hey, are you busy?_

_I was gonna make dinner for Ratchet, but I have time. What's up?_

_Wanna go play CreCo for a bit? I kinda need to vent._

_Sure, just let me call Ratchet real quick. Wanna meet at the river park in twenty minutes?_

_Yeah. See you soon._

Gravescour put his phone to his ear.

“Something wrong, hun?” Ratchet asked as soon as he answered. The teen smiled.

“Riot needs an ear, so we were gonna go play CreCo for a bit. Are you gonna be alright for dinner on your own?”

“Yeah, sure,” the older man said. “Actually, do you just want me to pick you up when you're done and we can go get something to eat?”

“We just ate out a few days ago,” Gravescour whined. “Not to mention, Airachnid forced a sandwich on me at lunch in addition to the salad I already had, so I won't eat enough for the cost to be worth it.”

Ratchet laughed. He could hear the pout in the teen's voice. “I have the money, hun. That's not an issue. Besides, don't you think Riot could use a little spoiling?”

“Fine. For Riot,” the younger man gave. “Should I call you when we're done?”

“Yeah, just call me when you're ready to go. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was dark by the time both teens met at the entrance to the park, but Gravescour recognized Riot's dimly-lit profile as he sat on the hood of his car, looking down at his phone.

“Hey,” the younger greeted from a few yards away, aware that he had a tendency to sneak up on and startle people.

“Hey,” Riot said, looking up. “There's still a few people milling about,” he said blandly.

“That's fine. We can talk quietly,” Gravescour offered, opening the app on his phone. “What's up?” he asked as Riot slid off the vehicle.

“Starscream sent me a text today, but he wouldn't respond to any of mine before or after.”

“What did it say?”

“You and Bumblebee are in my class.”

“That's it?” Gravescour asked as they headed into the dimly-lit trail, following the line of stations.

“Yup,” Riot said coolly.

“That's rough, but you'll see him next week,” the slender man offered. “The first round of presents should come in soon, too.”

“First round?” Riot balked. “Just how much did you guys buy?”

“Only the stuff you expressed interest in!” the younger teen promised.

“That was a lot! There were, like, four model airplanes that were over a hundred credits each!” In his surprise, Riot missed collecting a reward from one of the stations.

“Oh, I think Ratchet only got one of those. Pretty sure he went with the big one?”

“Primus, that one cost a hundred and twenty credits! I'm going to be in debt to you guys forever!”

“Ratchet said you don't have to pay him back!” Then he added, “If you get Starscream away from Megatron.” He grinned menacingly.

Riot groaned. “So, if I don't win his heart, I'll be in debt and without my man?”

“That's life, isn't it?” the younger teen said with a closed-eye smile. “You'll get him, though.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Uh, because you're nicer than Megatron?” Riot laughed in response.

“I'll give you that.” He paused briefly as they stopped to take on a battle station, “But that doesn't mean much in the face of a decade-long relationship.”

“Dude,” the younger man said, not looking up from the colorful monsters in combat on his phone, "Quality over quantity. It's a matter of good time spent together versus bad.

“Like, I lived with my mom for eighteen years. I still hate her guts. It would be pushing it to say that ten percent of that time was good. Occasionally, she'd compliment my drawings or my baking, but mostly it was beatings, pimping me out, and yelling at me. That doesn't a happy relationship make,” the teen said. In opposition to the melancholy mood of his words, the goth teen cheered when they defeated the battle station and left their own creatures. “Just because people spend a lot of time together doesn't mean they're going to fall and stay in love.” He started walking again. “Starscream will see that you're better in time.”

Riot heaved a heavy sigh. “I hope you're right,” he grunted. “You can't really compare their relationship to yours with your mom, though.”

“And why not?”

“Because! I mean, that's parent and child, not romantic. Plus, how many fights did you get in with her?”

“Uh, none? I pushed her off of me a few times, and a pepper sprayed her once, but I could never hit her, or I'd be the bad guy.”

“The make your mother sad type?”

“No!” Gravescour shrieked, covering his ears as best he could with his phone in hand.

“The seduce your dad type?!”

“Stop it with your dad-seducing music! That is so not my theme song! I'm not seducing anyone's dad!”

Riot finally found it within himself to give an honest laugh. He couldn't help but tease; “Ratchet is old enough to be a dad...”

“Yeah, but he calls me 'daddy',” Gravescour shot back. He cursed when he realized he missed a reward.

“Uh!” Riot said, disgust obvious on his features in the light of his phone. There was a short silence. “Does he really?”

“Pft, no!”

“Well, I wouldn't put it past you to do something like that!”

“Make Ratchet call me 'daddy'?”

“Stop saying that!”

The teens had a good laugh as they came upon a bench, deciding to take a short break and share a cigarette.

“Ya know, I'm happy you're with someone you love,” Riot started, his jaw twitching in his awkwardness, “but sometimes I wish you were still single so I could fuck out my frustration with you. This is the perfect place for it.”

“Bruh, you have a dildo now. What do you need me for?”

“It's not the same!” Riot raised his voice a little, snatching the smoke from his friend. “Besides, I can't exactly stick my dick in a dildo!”

“Get a pocket pussy then?”

“It would be cold!”

“Put it in warm water?”

“Out here? Besides, it's still not the same. There's no warm, friendly body attached to a pocket pussy. There's no one to make stupid jokes with afterward,” he trailed off.

“I mean, you could go masturbate, and we could make jokes afterward,” Gravescour offered. “But it is getting pretty late, so you might wanna do it quick because cops still start patrolling the park in a few minutes.”

“Shit, it's that late already?”

“It's a few minutes after nine,” the younger teen offered.

“Ah, damn. I guess you need to get home, huh?” Riot said, jumping up.   
  
“Ratchet offered to take us out to dinner, if you want.”

“You guys are already buying so much shit. I can't take more of your money,” Riot complained, getting up to follow his friend back toward the entrance.

“It's okay!” the goth teen cheered. “I'm only going to get fries and a soda, so you can have the other food I wouldn't. It all works out in the end.” Riot grabbed a slender arm and Gravescour stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“Why is that all you're getting? You're not having trouble eating again, are you?”

“No, no! I've just had a lot today.”

Riot let him go and eyed him suspiciously. “Really. Breakfast and two lunches.”

“Fine,” the older teen said after a long moment.

Back in the parking lot, Gravescour called Ratchet. They agreed to meet at a diner, and climbed into Riot's car.

“Hey,” Ratchet greeted when the teens walked in. “One of your packages came in today.”

“Already?!” Riot asked as he slid into the booth. Gravescour fit himself against Ratchet's side, cuddling up to the older man just to watch his face change color.

“Yeah,” Ratchet said, slyly putting an arm around the teen. “I think it's that CreCo bird.”

“Hey, that's the first one you wanted to give him!”

“I don't know how to deal with all this,” Riot admitted, adding extra sugar to the coffee he was provided with just for something to do with his hands.

“Just enjoy it,” Ratchet said with a shrug. “If you really wanna pay me back, you can come help plant the tulips.”

“Ooh! Did those come in today?” Gravescour asked excitedly, bouncing a little.

“No, but they're supposed to arrive tomorrow,” Ratchet explained.

“Tulips?” the older teen asked, a brow raised.

“He thought the front of the house looked kinda bland, so I got some tulips.”

“Why tulips though?”

“They're his favorite,” the older man said with a shrug, bringing his free hand up to scratch his jaw.

“I mean, I know that,” Riot groused, “but isn't that a little flashy for you?”

The white-haired man opened his mouth to respond, but Gravescour beat him to the punch. “Flashy? His motorcycle is rust orange and sparkly! A little red and yellow in the front lawn is hardly flashy.”

“Man, will you just order some food and stop raising my blood pressure?” Ratchet grumbled.

They ate, discussing their plans for the next week. Riot agreed to help plant the tulips, and Gravescour gabbed about how they'd wrap each individual present. After he ate, Riot said his goodbyes and left to get some rest so he could be ready to work the next day. Gravescour moved to the opposite seat, just grinning at Ratchet.

“What's that look for?”

“You try to hide how sweet you are, and it's adorable,” the teen teased.

“Yeah, well-” His phone rang out with a text, and he quickly checked it. “I call you 'daddy', huh?”

“When did Riot get your number?!”

Ratchet laughed, full and hearty. After one more cup of coffee, he picked up the tab and they headed home.  
  


* * *

  
The next day, Riot showed up at eleven, and was practically force-fed chocolate chip pancakes. The three spent the better part of the day digging up the areas around the house and filling them with red and yellow flowers. It was still pretty warm out, and Riot took off his shirt at one point. Both Ratchet and Gravescour looked a little displeased that he had an undershirt on.

When the teen caught his partner looking, Ratchet's face matched the flowers quite well. Instead of getting upset, Gravescour grinned devilishly. When Riot took a restroom break, the lean man crawled over to Ratchet. “I saw you looking,” he teased.

“I'm sorry! I-”

“It's okay to look,” he soothed. “But just remember, he's Starscream's future man.”

Ratchet sat back and pursed his lips in thought. The grin that soon split his face was downright malicious. “Am I going to have to call you 'daddy' to make this up to you?” the older man asked, trying his best to look innocent.

“Oh my god!” Gravescour shrieked, jumping to his feet as his partner laughed. He passed a confused Riot on his way inside. “I'm getting sodas!” he announced, clearly flustered.

“Can you grab me a beer, daddy?” Ratchet called after him.

“Get it yourself!” the teen squeaked. He brought it anyway.

Once they were finished, they laid in the grass and appreciated their hard work. Eventually Gravescour went inside to make some sandwiches for them to enjoy, splayed out in the front yard. Before it got too late, they went on a walk to play CreCo. When they returned, Riot left them with hugs, his arms already full of gifts and wrapping paper. He promised to text Gravescour.

Inside, Ratchet snuck up behind Gravescour when he was giving the dishes they'd used for lunch a brief rinse. “Daddy, I need some attention,” he purred, right in his partner's ear. The teen shivered and turned around, red-faced.

“You'll never let me live that down, will you?” he asked with a pout.

“Maybe you should punish me for it?” Ratchet continued to tease, letting his hands come to rest on the edge of the sink on either side of the teen. Upon seeing the younger man's troubled expression, Ratchet relented. “I'm sorry, hun. I was just messin' with ya. I won't do it anymore,” he promised. He leaned forward to kiss his partner's forehead.

“It's not that big of a deal, I'm just in a weird mood is all,” was the quiet answer. Gravescour brought his hands up to cling to the back of Ratchet's shirt. “You smell nice,” he mumbled into the cotton.

“I smell like sweat,” Ratchet said with a snort.

“I like it,” was whispered into the chest.

Ratchet frowned. He gently eased the boy back from his chest. “What's wrong, hun? You're not upset that I was looking at Riot, are you?”

Gravescour shook his head, his hair falling over his face. “I was, too, so I can't be mad about that.”

Ratchet tucked the black locks behind pale ears one side at a time. “Then what's wrong?” After receiving a shrug, the older man continued; “Do you want to cuddle on the couch?”

“Can I blow you?” the teen asked too quickly.

Ratchet was taken aback. He blinked. “Uh, well, you seem like you're not in a good mood for that,” he said, stumbling over his words.

“I am, though,” Gravescour promised, still clinging. “I- sometimes I have these subservient moods that- I just want to make you feel good.” He lifted his face, holding eye-contact as best he could as Ratchet thought.

“I'll tell you what,” he started, backing up slowly so the teen could move with him. “If you want to make me feel good, why don't you rub my sore knee, and we'll see where that goes?”

Gravescour nodded eagerly, a little smile on thin lips. He ran off ahead of the older man toward his bedroom.

“Where are you going?” the older man called after him.

“To get the bed comfortable for you!”

When Ratchet entered their room, he found both pillows stacked on his side of the bed, and his partner sitting on the end with a tube of lotion in his hands. “Take off your pants,” Gravescour ordered.

“Well, alright,” the white-haired man said with a chuckle. He shucked his jeans and socks, leaving his underwear on for the moment. He reclined into the stacked pillows, laying his legs out before his partner.

“Which one?”

“Guess,” Ratchet said, smiling down at the younger man.

“Hmm, I guess I'll just have to get both, then.” The teen knelt and took the unscarred leg in his hands, lifting it so his knee bent. First, Gravescour kissed the knee, laving it with attention. Ratchet was slightly uncomfortable with the affection being sexual in nature, but soon the teen started to rub. Fingers with lotion having already been warmed dug into sore muscles and Ratchet felt more than heard the moan that was pulled from his chest. His toes curled and he cursed. “Good or pain?” Gravescour asked, slowing the stroking.

“Good! Don't stop, damn,” the squirming man growled.

When the pressure picked up again, Ratchet gave up on holding in the sounds he wanted to make. Unable to reach out and touch his lover, he had to deal with fisting his hands in the blanket. He thought he could hear Gravescour making his own noises of pleasure, but couldn't be sure through his own.

“Oh, damn,” he managed to gasp out when the clever fingers stopped working him. “That was amazing,” he panted. “What year is it? Where am I?” he joked.

Gravescour laughed, his mood seemingly having picked up. “Time for the other one,” the teen cooed, rewarming some lotion in his hands.

“Be a little softer with that one around the scar tissue,” Ratchet asked, his knee already bending as his nervousness returned. “You should be able to feel it.”

“I'll be gentle,” Gravescour promised, taking the joint in his skilled hands. He was much more tender that time, focusing on the kneecap instead of the thigh muscles like he had with the other. To Ratchet's surprise, his lover's lean fingers didn't often wander up into his scars. When they did, they pressed soothingly, easing the ache of a day spent on them. Finally trusting that last body part to the teen, he relaxed into the touch. After a few minutes, quiet noises fell from his lips. He gave in to the sensation, his length starting to fill as he was massaged.

“Thank you,” he nearly purred, eyes glassy and half-lidded.

Gravescour cooed in response, leaning down to press an almost comically chaste kiss to the stiffening prick as if to say he acknowledged it. The lean youth continued to treat Ratchet's leg with tender care for several more minutes before his attention turned to his length. Hands gently holding hips, Gravescour kissed up the length. He gave a little whine when a large hand found the top of his head and stroked lovingly.

“You don't have to do this, you know.”

“That's why I want to,” the younger man said quietly as he peeled back Ratchet's briefs. It took a moment to get them off with how the older man's legs were too relaxed to exactly be helpful. “Want to take off your shirt? I like looking at all of you.”

That, Ratchet could do.

“You're beautiful,” the teen said reverently. He stroked his partner's hips while kissing and sucking at the underside of the eagerly-twitching length.

“You keep telling me that,” Ratchet said, his voice breathy.

“Because it's true,” Gravescour whispered as he used a hand to hold his lover's length. He stroked gently, his fingers unbelievably soft from the lotion. He licked away the bead of moisture that had gathered on the head and delighted in the way the older man shook. It felt like ages to Ratchet before the teen finally took him in his mouth, devilish tongue flicking at sensitive spots along the underside of his prick. Ratchet threaded his fingers in black hair and just let his hand rest there, bobbing with his partner's head.

“Hun,” he said after a long moment. The questioning hum he received made him moan. “Are you hard? Can- can we do this to each other at the same time?” When Gravescour sat up, Ratchet made another offer; “If you're not feeling that, I can eat you out while you suck me off.”

“I'm hard,” the lean man assured him. “Let me get my clothes off.”

“Um, can I, uh, ask you to do something for me?” Ratchet asked nervously, lightly stroking himself as he watched his partner strip.

“What's that?”

“After you take everything off, can you put that flannel back on, but leave it open? It's really cute on you.”

Gravescour chuckled, picking the plaid fabric up from the floor. “Sure,” he said, slipping the shirt back on. The dark fabric created a nice contrast with his pale skin and made his shoulders look a little more broad. He ran his hands over his own torso as Ratchet watched.

“Perfect,” the older man said, “you're so perfect. Come up here.”

“Me on top?” Gravescour asked as he climbed onto the ed.

“I'd prefer to be on top, but my legs are jelly. So, which did you want?” Ratchet took the slim hips in his hands and helped guide him into position.

“You'd prefer to have a stiff dick fucking down your throat, wouldn't you?”

Ratchet's body shivered in response to the question, his hands tightening.

“I'll take that as a 'yes',” the teen teased.

“I want you to enjoy yourself, too,” Ratchet said, stroking a thigh that was noticeably thicker than the first time he'd ever caressed it.

“You think I won't enjoy fucking your throat?” the teasing continued.

“I mean, if you'd enjoy- oh shit,” the older man hissed when his length was enveloped in a warm, moist cavern. Though he tried not to, he still whined when the pressure let up.

“C'mon, Ratchet,” the teen whined, shifting his hips so he could rub himself over the older man's slightly parted lips. “Let's do this together.”

Ratchet didn't feel like arguing anymore. He laid back and took hold of his partner's girth, guiding it to his mouth. He sucked, encouraging the teen to thrust with one hand on his lower back, the other fisted in the flannel.

After a few seconds of panting against Ratchet's scarred thigh, Gravescour forced himself to lift his head and tucked his hair behind his ear before taking his partner back into his mouth. He laved the throbbing prick with attention, moaning as his own was tongued roughly. He couldn't help thrusting into the all-too-willing mouth, the sounds Ratchet made making him tremble.

Gravescour held the thighs under him tightly, still somehow mindful of the sore areas. He bobbed his head, trying desperately to get his lover off before his quickly-approaching orgasm took him. He didn't quite make it, having to pull off of the stiff prick to moan as he pulsed down Ratchet's throat. The older man held him in place, his mouth and throat working the throbbing length, groaning around him.

“Fuck, Ratchet,” Gravescour moaned. One more moan around his prick had the teen crying out. He pulled up, freeing his oversensitive length from Ratchet's enthusiastic tongue. The older man panted.

“Oh, thank you, hun. Damn,” the older man purred, his voice gravelly. “You know, you're really wet,” he noted, leaning up to gently nuzzle the folds. Gravescour instantly pushed back against the touch. Ratchet chuckled. “Sit on my face,” he said, “Please?”

The teen didn't argue, moving himself into position, humping back against the probing tongue as he once more took his lover's straining length into his mouth. He moaned around the prick, his motions much more sloppy than they had been. Ratchet, however, seemed to enjoy that more, thrusting shallowly as he held the teen down on his face. A little tongue work on the swollen nub had Gravescour crying out around the thick prick in his mouth, gushing on his partner's face. Ratchet wasn't far behind, his tongue working on autopilot as he shuddered through his orgasm. The black-haired teen had to draw away, putting a hand over himself to shield his oversensitive parts. He whined against his lover's thigh, trying to press little kisses to it.

“Damn, hun,” Ratchet said with a little laugh. He helped the other turn around and lay down next to him. “That was great,” he said, petting the younger man's hair. “I need a shower, but damn do I want to just lay here and kiss you for a while.” He frowned briefly, then chuckled. “Not to mention my face is covered in your fluids.”

“I don't mind that,” the younger man said, leaning up to press his lips to his partner's wet ones. “But I would like you to shave soon,” he said when he pulled back. He gave the other a shit-eating grin. “My pussy is gonna be sore for a few hours from that rug burn.” He thoroughly enjoyed watching Ratchet's face turn red. “Shower?”

“Y-yeah,” Ratchet said, letting the teen help him up. “I'll shave in the morning, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome!
> 
> JOLT here! Once again I messed up the order of the chapters! I should really be having Bee do this, but I'm being impatient while she's asleep and messing things up! <3 Anyyyway, it's fixed now, so I hope you enjoyed the fresh content! More soon!


	20. Chapter 20

Later that week, Riot spent the night with Gravescour and Ratchet. The older man managed to find the teens some garbage to burn in his little grill so they could relive humorous stories from high school. Most of those tales revolved around camping out in the goth teen's backyard, avoiding Lilith while burning her things. Ratchet appeared to be more than a little concerned about the volume of things that the younger men had turned to ash. Both teens had a good, long laugh at the perturbed look on the finally clean-shaven face when they told the tale of melting a pair of jeans to the back patio. As their stories grew more and more outrageous, Ratchet started to regret letting them each have a beer.

Gravescour explained why he wore so many rings whenever he went anywhere but work. They had belonged to his other mother, whom he barely remembered. It was a popular fashion trend not long before the young man was born, to wear more rings than you had fingers. Of the things about her that he did remember, her bejeweled hands were at the forefront.

Gravescour had stolen them after the first particularly bad beating he'd received from Lilith, and had intended to sell them, but their sentimental value caught up with him before he could. He wore the black and silver ones whenever he was able.

Riot burst out laughing and immediately apologized. He explained that it reminded him of a tale of his own. Apparently when his parents had divorced, Thrush had thrown many of his cheating wife's things out of the second story window. She too had been part of that ring fad and had hundreds, many of which were precious metals and real gemstones. They would still occasionally find one after a flood or particularly rough storm.

“If we're ever hurting for cash,” Riot said, “we can probably just take a metal detector to the front yard and we'll be set.”

Ratchet laughed, leaning back in his chair. The laugh faded into a noise of displeasure, and both teens looked at him curiously. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” from Gravescour.

“Why wouldn't we?” from Riot.

The older man sat up straight and the boys did too in anticipation. “Not too long ago,” Ratchet began, “maybe five or six years, I was dating a woman who hadn't let go of that fad. You both just reminded me of her.” He trailed off for a moment, shrugging awkwardly.

“Is there more to this story?” Riot asked. “Or is you dating a woman supposed to be the secret part?”

Ratchet sputtered and the boys laughed. “No!” He cleared his throat. “The secret part is how we, uh, parted ways.” He took a sip of his beer before he told his tale. “Starscream had to stay with me a few times over the months that she and I were dating.”

“Oh no,” Riot interjected.

“Yeah,” Ratchet agreed. “But it was for the best, really,” he said, a hand on Gravescour's knee. The gesture was more to comfort himself than the teen. “She had started staying with me after we were intimate, but she didn't like Starscream staying here.” He frowned deeply.

“How could someone not want you to help your friend?” Gravescour asked, bringing his hand to his mouth to nervously chew on a nail. Riot smacked the hand lightly without looking away from Ratchet.

“That's what I'd like to know,” the older man grumbled. “But, she eventually told me to pick him or her.” Ratchet took his arm back to cross them over his chest. “So I told her to take her toothbrush and get out.” As he reached for his beer, he added, “With much more colorful language,” quietly.

“I'll never ask you to do that,” Gravescour promised, bumping his knee against his partner's.

“I know,” Ratchet assured, returning the gesture. “I'm so glad you both like Star.”

“I will ask him to put up with our sex noises, though!”

“Or him calling you 'daddy'?” Riot teased.

“Oh my god!” the youngest teen shrieked, throwing his hands up. The others had a good laugh.

Riot slept on the couch that night, not wanting to sleep in the room where he'd last been with Starscream. Thankfully the others understood.

Ratchet disappeared into the garage for a moment and came back with an air mattress and a couple of sleeping bags. They set up camp in the living room, and had microwaved s'mores to keep the party going. Riot's had double the chocolate, since the leaner teen wasn't a fan.

In the morning, Gravescour made crepes and eggs. The three said their goodbyes after breakfast, and Riot promised to visit on the weekends.

Once more, as Riot packed a suitcase, Thrush swooned over his son's accomplishments. He earned himself an eye-roll from the teen. Then a laugh when Thrush promised to drown his misery of the empty nest with far too many of Gravescour's cookies.

“I'll be back on the weekends, oh my god,” Riot said.

“I know, but you've only been back for three weeks! It's like I'm sending you off to boot camp all over again! It's so quiet without you and Gravescour being little hellions, listening to your devil-music,” he said jokingly.

“You like rock, too! Just play some on the computer and it'll be like I never left! Or, better yet, go visit the horses!”

“I do want to take you and your friends down to the ranch on the holiday break, so maybe I should go down there and start socializing them soon,” Thrush said, a hand to his chin in thought.

“That sounds great. I'll see you Friday, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  
  


* * *

  
Riot's flight school was a drive of an hour and a half from home. It was just far enough to remain in the dorms. As soon as his suitcase came to rest inside the room, and he tossed his bag on the bed that had yet to be claimed of the two in the room, a small body launched itself at him. The white-haired teen cried out in surprise, but immediately calmed when he recognized the arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, 'Bee,” he said, letting the smaller teen dangle off of him.

“Riot! I t-traded with S-S-Sunstorm so we could room together!”

“That's awesome,” Riot said, smiling. “I'll finish getting my stuff moved in, then we can get dinner.”

“Sounds g-great!”

Classes started bright and early the next morning.

Starscream stood at the front of the class and introduced himself. Riot had to pick his jaw up off the desk, seeing the older man in a tight sweater and slacks. He'd assumed that since they had to wear their uniforms that Starscream would too. He was pleased to find that he was wrong. Though, something bothered him. He noticed something gleaming on the man's slender hand every time he gestured as he spoke. He waited for the man to keep his hands still, going over the syllabus for the first half of the term. When the hands finally paused, the color drained from Riot's face. The teen didn't have time to process his feelings, however, as they got started straight away with a power point of airplane parts and terms. Riot pulled out a notebook to start taking notes, scratching a doodle of a ring in the upper left hand corner of the first page to remind himself to do something about it later.

When they were dismissed for lunch, Riot told Bumblebee he'd meet him in the mess and stayed behind, waiting for his teacher to be free after other students had tormented him with questions.

“Yes, Riot. What do you need?” Starscream asked, not looking up from the computer as he checked how many more slides he needed to get through that day.

“Wanna grab lunch with 'Bee and me?” he tried, looking sheepish.

“I can't. I have to figure out how many slides we're going to get through by the quiz on Friday,” he said, a slight frown on his face. “I may have talked too much earlier, so I don't think we'll get as far as I want,” he said more to himself than Riot.

“Maybe coffee later, then?”

“No thank you. I need to sleep tonight. So do you. Don't drink any coffee after six in the evening if you want to get a decent night's sleep.”

Growing irritated, Riot took a deep breath. He couldn't believe the older man was acting so cold to him after the wonderful time they'd had. “So, that's a big ring,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Must've really patched things up with Megatron if you accepted his proposal.”

That had Starscream looking up. The older man's brows drew together, then turned down in an angry expression. “I haven't accepted anything, yet,” Starscream said coolly. “This is just a trial. He wanted me to wear the ring while I was thinking about it.”

“How could you even consider marrying that asshole?!” Riot asked, his voice raised a bit.

“Don't act like you know anything about our relationship,” the slender man said, standing up. “You don't know anything!” Starscream raised his voice, too.

“I know that he cheats on you and treats you like shit,” Riot stood his ground. “You deserve better.”

“How would you know? I'm apparently a cheating asshole, too,” Starscream hissed, gesturing to Riot. “So all is fair now.” He yanked his flash drive from the computer and started for the door. “As of right now, I'm just your teacher. Maybe your friend if you change your tone,” he said and walked out the door.

Riot kicked one of the desks, shoved his notebook in the bag he'd brought and stormed out. He took a walk outside to calm himself. After a few minutes of angry pacing with his bag slung over his shoulder, he took out his phone.

“I have ten minutes left on my lunch break. Go,” Gravescour said as soon as he picked up.

“Starscream is engaged. I'm pissed.”

There was a short silence, the sounds of his friend smoking all Riot could hear.

“You know it's just a phase. They'll be fighting again in a week or two,” the younger teen said confidently.

“What if they get married before then?” Riot asked, trying not to pull at his hair with his free hand.

“Please,” Gravescour said, the shake of his head audible. “Do you really think Megatron would marry Starscream without an extravagant, expensive wedding to hang over his head? I'm sure you've got at least until a few weeks after flight school to win his heart, or at least convince him that Megatron is a smelly pile of shit.”

“I hope you're right, I really do.”

“I am. Just proceed with the plan as intended.”

“Tch. Yes sir,” the older teen mumbled, managing a little laugh.

“Also, don't forget to eat. I'm sure you're on your lunch break now and that's why you're calling me.”

“Yeah,” Riot trailed off. “Hey, wait! Isn't it my job to remind you to eat?”

“Excuse you. I eat at least three meals a day now that I'm living with Ratchet. I've gained fifteen pounds and it's only been a few months.”

“Good! I think. Are you still exercising?”

Gravescour groaned in response. “Yes, Daddy,” he said. “Every day. I can do more than twenty push-ups now without whining like a little bitch.”

“Well, it was nice to get a little good news today, I guess. Are you gonna have little bumps of muscle by the time I get back?”

“Excuse you,” Gravescour said again, faux-indignant. “I've had 'little bumps of muscle' for a while now. You just haven't seen me naked to see them,” he teased.

“And that's a crying shame,” Riot teased back.

The other laughed. “I'm glad you're feeling well enough to make jokes,” he said.

“I have to or I'll go mad,” Riot said with a sigh. “Anyway, Wednesday. Wednesday I'll give him the bird, as planned. Thanks for talking to me, man.”

“For you, anytime.”

When he hung up, Riot had a new determination, a feeling that burned in his stomach. Though, as his stomach rumbled, he thought it may have just been hunger as he ran off to find Bumblebee and see what the mess had to offer.

Wednesday morning, Riot went in earlier than the others. He left the gift on Starscream's desk, then scurried out of the room to find Bumblebee. He met up with the blonde, and was finally introduced to Sunstorm in the hall. He was slightly taller than Riot, and had dirty blonde hair that was styled strikingly similarly to Starscream's. The three entered the classroom together and took their seats.

“Oooh, someone left professor Starscream a gift!” Sunstorm cooed. “That's an excellent idea! I shall do the same one of these days.”

That statement raised Riot's heckles. The smaller blonde noticed, so he interjected. “Y-y-ya know, that m-might be a bad idea, Sunstorm,” he said.

“What? Why?” he asked, missing the way Bumblebee had turned a concerned look at Riot.

“It mmmight be taken as a f-f-form of bribery. Wh-wh-what's the word I'm looking for?”

“Ohh, you mean a conflict of interest?” Sunstorm asked, leaning his chin on his hand. “I'd risk it to give professor Starscream a gift. He deserves it,” he said with a dreamy sigh.

Bumblebee grimaced awkwardly when he realized his two friends both had a crush on Starscream.

“It's lieutenant Starscream,” Riot corrected, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice.

“It's both,” the taller young man said with a smirk.

The tiny blonde didn't know what to do with the tension, and was overcome with relief when another student walked in. “Thank Primus,” he mumbled before waving the purple-haired twenty-year-old over. “Hotlink! H-hey! Come join us! D-d-do you have anything new to show us?!” he asked eagerly, hoping the spiky-haired young man would have a new gadget to show them.

Joining the small group, he pulled a modified graphing calculator from his bag.

Ten minutes later, the room had filled up. Starscream walked in, looking miserable, a cup of coffee in hand. He started giving instructions as soon as the door was closed behind him, but stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the bright yellow package on the desk. “What is this?” he asked, sitting his coffee aside. He plugged in his flash drive before prying open the CreCo styled present with its pyramid shape. He took out the plush and just stared at it for a long moment before a smile broke out on his face. For some reason he could explain – but didn't want to – he found the snub-nosed bird charming. It was soft, its plane-like wings floppy. He turned the toy over and examined it from all angles, the smile still in place. “This is cute. Who is it from?”

The students just looked around at each other, shrugged and mumbled. After making sure Sunstorm wouldn't take credit for his gift, Riot joined in with the group, pretending to be confused.

“Well, if it was one of you, thank you. There is still a quiz on Friday, though.” Several students groaned, and Starscream's smile grew into a smirk.

During his lunch break, Riot logged on to CreCo to collect some rewards from stops around the campus and grinned when he noticed he'd received a gift from Starscream. The first since the day they'd been intimate. He jumped and cheered, confusing Bumblebee and their new tag-alongs.  
  


* * *

  
Starscream had kept an eye on Riot all of the next week, knowing he was the one who left the gift. However, the teen showed no suspicious behaviors other than the longing looks that were cast his way on occasion. He passed both of his quizzes with low As, but As nonetheless, which the older man was only slightly surprised by, since he'd often find the teen gazing at his legs rather than the projector screen. He couldn't help but wonder if another gift was coming, but he'd started to give up hope by the end of the second week.

Then, on a Tuesday, his memory of Megatron being slightly irritated with him for his choice of restaurant for their date over the weekend fresh in his memory, he saw it: another gift. The new one was in a bag, a simple baby blue thing with a white ribbon tied to the handle. He gave the class an awkward greeting before opening the bag. He untied the ribbon carefully and opened the bag. After opening the even lighter blue tissue paper, he finally laid eyes on the gift. A simple steel-gray scarf with fluffy ends, his name and rank lovingly hand-stitched into one end in Air Force blue. Starscream's smile was a soft one as he admired the stitching. He shoved it back in the bag, making sure to keep the ribbon, too.

“It's lovely,” he said aloud, a bit of a dreamy edge to his tone. He briefly made eye-contact with Riot before looking at every other student in an accusatory manner. “But this won't get you out of the quiz. There will be one every Friday, and they will still count as twenty percent of your final grade,” he teased.

Sunstorm bumped Bumblebee's arm with his elbow to get the smaller blonde's attention. “I have to know who is doing this,” he said.

Bumblebee put a finger to his lips and nodded toward the image coming up on the screen. Class went on as usual that day, other than a few mumblings of students trying to figure out who had left the gifts.

On his way home that Friday, Starscream received a text. He waited until he was in the driveway to read it. Gravescour said: _You're still coming to the CreCo event tomorrow right? Shiny Moenblobs will be EVERYWHERE._

 _Yes, I'll be there. But I can't talk right now. I just got home._ Starscream sent back, though he smiled.

Megatron greeted Starscream with a fast food bag, making the younger man laugh. He appreciated the gesture, knowing how much his partner hated greasy fast food. As they ate, Megatron made a suggestion. “I've noticed you had a much easier time getting off the painkillers this time. That seems like a good sign. Maybe you should ease up on the anti-anxiety medication as well?”

Starscream put his burger down. He looked up at the brunette across the table from him and frowned. “But I need that one,” he mumbled.

“I'm not saying stop,” Megatron promised, holding out a massive paw in a placating gesture. “Just ease up. Maybe skip a dose this week, then two next week, and eventually get down to every other day. You'll need to come off of it to be clean for the baby,” he said a bit menacingly.

“My doctor will put me on one that won't harm a baby, Megatron,” the younger said, instinctively trying to make himself smaller.

Megatron offered a smile, pushing Starscream's fries closer to him. “Yes, but you know that one will be a much lower dose. It's for the best to start now,” he said, voice deceptively soft. “If you skip the first one tomorrow, I will be here with you so you have nothing to worry about then.”

Starscream had to wait until he'd swallowed a mouthful of fries to respond. “I'm going out to the park with my friends tomorrow.”

“Oh, that's right,” the brunette said, briefly looking irritated. “Still, it shouldn't be an issue if you're surrounded by friends.”

“But I won't even feel the effect of a missed dose for a few days. I might not even notice one at all,” Starscream said, picking up a few more fries even though he was starting to lose his appetite.

“Good. Then you can skip your next dose on Monday and Thursday, so you can be in my arms when you start to feel the effects.”

Starscream's expression was clearly uncomfortable, but Megatron's smile remained tender, so the silver-haired man figured the other must know what he was talking about, so he reluctantly accepted the conditions.

After they ate, Megatron tried to coax his younger partner into bed, but Starscream denied him as gently as he could, explaining that he was tired and bloated. The bigger man settled for getting himself off while the younger curled up on his side.  
  


* * *

  
“I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you doing this,” Ratchet said the next day as his partner climbed over him to get out of Optimus' minivan. The bluenette parked in Megatron's driveway, ready to pick up Starscream to take him to the event with the rest of the CreCo group.

“It'll be fine,” the teen assured him. “You all will be right out here,” he said cheerfully.

Watching the teen run up to the door, Ratchet mumbled to himself, “I'm not sure if he's brave or stupid.”

“There are different types of bravery in this world, my friend,” Optimus said, keeping both hands on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, but there's a difference between brave and stupid,” Ratchet grumbled, watching the teen waiting at the door like a hawk.

“You wouldn't be dating him if he was stupid,” Arcee put in, looking back at the older man from the front passenger seat. She smirked, making him wave her off with a slight frown.

At the front door, Gravescour shivered. It wasn't necessarily cold out, but he shifted from foot to foot like it was more than just a bit chilly. Jeans and a flannel, buttoned and tucked in though it was, did little to protect him from the slight chill when he wasn't moving.

Megatron answered the door. Upon noticing the slender teen, he leaned on the doorframe and grinned like a shark. “Well, well,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I don't know what you did, but I stepped on a duck,” Gravescour shot back.

“What?”

“Nothing,” the teen said, standing to his full height, now six feet. “I'm not here to see you, anyway. I'm here to see my friend.” He tried to look over Megatron's shoulder, but despite his height, the older man still provided a meat wall that blocked his view. “Starscream!” he called out. “The event starts in less than ten minutes! Let's go!”

“I'm coming! One second!” the higher-pitched voice called out from somewhere in the house.

“So, I'm guessing since Optimus is with you, this isn't actually some ploy to get Starscream away from me, and you actually are going to play that game,” the older man said, his voice low.

“Uh, yeah,” the teen said, busying himself with his phone. “It's a Squad Day, so a rare creature is out in droves, and it's shiny rate is way the hell up.”

Megatron blinked. “I didn't understand any of that,” he said.

Gravescour looked up, shit-eating grin on his face. “Good,” was all the teen said. His grin grew at the irritated look on the scarred face.

“Sorry about that!” Starscream said, ducking around the larger form to walk out onto the steps with Gravescour. “I couldn't find my portable battery pack anywhere.”

“You have it now right?” The silver-haired man nodded. “Then let's G.T.F.O.!”

As they turned to head down the steps, both slim men cringed when Megatron spoke; “Now wait a minute. Maybe I'd like to try this game?”

“I really doubt it,” Gravescour said, taking Starscream's arm with his free hand so he didn't stop to listen.

In the car, the other four watched Megatron follow with trepidation.

“Oh, now what in the hell is he doing?” Ratchet asked, gritting his teeth.

When Gravescour opened the door, he shoved Starscream in first and joined him in the back so Megatron would be forced to take one of the middle seats, away from the younger men. The brunette didn't miss this action. However, he put on a pleasant face and took out his phone before closing the door behind himself.

“Hello old friends,” he said, smiling. “I thought I'd give this game a try. What is it called again?” Megatron's smile faded away as no one answered him promptly.

“Creature Collector,” Arcee answered eventually, no small amount of irritation in her voice.

“Alright then,” Megatron said, pulling up the app store to download it.

The air in the car grew thick, so Optimus decided to try to break the tension. “I hope you like fish, because the vendor from the Eastern Prefecture that comes down every winter season is already out at the river park, and we were planning on having dinner from his cart.”

“I just ate,” Megatron said, running through the game's initial setup on his phone. After a moment, he added, “But thank you.”

The ride remained silent, everyone thoroughly disappointed in the change of events. Riot found it hard to even be excited that Starscream was wearing the scarf he gave him.

“Are you sure you're dressed for this?” Ratchet picked at Megatron. He gestured around the vehicle vaguely, making the brunette take in everyone else's combination of some form of jacket, sweater or warm shirt and jeans or insulated sweatpants.

“I'll be fine,” he said, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “These are surprisingly warm.”

Ratchet mumbled something under his breath that no one caught, but made Megatron smirk.

When they got there, everyone ran off, Megatron's brows nearly making his hairline. They all went for the first battle station and joined in something that the brunette couldn't quite follow.

“Even you?” Megatron asked with a derisive tone as he walked up behind the group, the question directed at Ratchet.

The older man's face had started to turn pink. “It's fun,” he grunted with a shrug.

Megatron rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Starscream. “What am I supposed to do now?” he asked, holding his phone in front of the younger man's face.

Starscream ducked out of the way so he could see the battle on his own screen. “You need to get to level five and join a team first.”

“What? Fine,” he growled. “What team are you?”

“The Darkness,” Starscream answered off-handedly.

Megatron rolled his eyes again. “Of course you are. I guess that's what I'll join then.” After a pause, “I find it hard to believe that your friends here are members of a team called 'The Darkness',” he said with a scoff.

“They didn't,” was the answer. “Most of them are on The Light.”

“What's The Hoarde?”

“Those are the actual bad guys. The Darkness is more like antiheroes,” Starscream explained.

“Maybe I'll join them, then. To be different,” Megatron suggested.

“Sure,” was the slender man's response.

The brunette grew irritated with the lack of response and wandered off for a few minutes to catch some of the creatures the others invested so much time in.

A cheer from the crowd that had gathered around the park entrance sign drew his attention. People were giving each other high fives, some jumping for joy, others threw fists in the air. Gravescour was one of the latter, and Megatron felt the edge of his mouth curl up in a snarl when Starscream gave Riot a high five. His expression grew even darker when Ratchet joined in the celebration, giving the youngest three men the congratulatory slap of palms. The bigger man walked back over. Once people were no longer distracted by the action on their phones, they started reacting to the hulking man. Seeing people's eyes widen and a few even dart out of his path made Megatron feel a bit better, but he was still irritated.

“Why is everyone cheering?” he demanded, looking down at Starscream.

“We defeated a powerful creature, and now everyone has a chance to catch it,” Gravescour answered for the other, noticing the way he shrank back in the face of his so-called partner.

“What is this creature?”

“Moonbeak, a really cool-looking bird.”

“A bird,” Megatron said, deadpan.

“You don't have to play if you don't like it,” Ratchet couldn't help but pick some more, grinning.

“This game is childish,” the brunette said.

“That's part of what makes it fun,” Ratchet fired back.

The younger man glared. “You're a doctor. Don't you have better things to do with your time than play childrens' games?” He turned to Starscream. “And you're a military veteran. Isn't this trash beneath you?”

“Hey, I'm a vet, too,” a passerby said, taking his dog tags from his shirt with a hand that was clearly mostly metal and plastic. “Twenty-one years in the service, and I lost my arm in the last war. This game is for everyone, man.” The stranger then turned his attention to Starscream. “Name's Hound,” the man said. “I'll always add a fellow serviceman if they've got a space on their friend list. Wanna add me?”

“Uh, s-sure!” Starscream said, pulling up his friends list to give Hound his code.

Megatron stood there and watched the two exchange codes, growing angrier by the second as Gravescour and Ratchet smirked at him. The brunette squeezed his phone and drew in a deep breath. “You're all childish idiots!” he boomed.

Arcee and Optimus ran over as soon as their old comrade started shouting.

“This game is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever seen a a goddamn waste of time!”

“There are children here!” a stranger raised her voice in return. “Just leave if you don't like it, and watch your language if you're going to shout!”

“You heard the lady,” Hound said, looking up from where he'd been looking at Starscream's phone while the other scrolled through his collection. “If yer gonna be a jerk, then get outta here.”

“Fine,” Megatron growled. “I'll see you at home,” he said, glaring daggers at his partner. He stormed off, away from the park and toward downtown.

“Good riddance,” Ratchet said, his nose turned up. “Hey, let me get your code, too. I'm a retired Air Force medic,” he said to Hound.

The rest of the group added the large man with the ratty beard, as Starscream held his phone tight, looking nervous. Riot put a hand on the slender back to comfort the taller man as Hound playfully teased Gravescour for being a baker when the rest of his friends were military.

“Hey man,” Arcee started, “I'd do it all over again if I could have an endless supply of his cookies without getting fat.”

Hound laughed. “Yeah? Where you work at, son? I'll have to come by and buy some, then.”

“Webby's, sir,” the teen answered. “They're half price after five on Thursdays.”

They walked and chatted with their new friend, Riot and Starscream falling a big behind to have their own conversation.

“You gonna be alright?” Riot asked.

“I don't know,” Starscream answered honestly, fiddling with the end of his scarf. “I'm not sure I want to go home right now,” he mumbled.

“Then don't,” Riot said, trying to soothe the older man with a gentle rub to his back. “Stay at Ratchet's tonight.”

“I should go home once the event is over. I don't want to make him even more mad.”

“Maybe he could use some time to cool off, though?” Riot suggested, trying to smile.

“Maybe,” Starscream trailed off. When he tapped on a Moenblob on his screen, the creature popped up with a wheel of sparkles flying off of it. “Oh! My first shiny!”

An hour later, Optimus treated everyone to seafood from the vendor's cart. He and Arcee snacked on smoked salmon sticks, while Gravescour, Ratchet and Hound gorged themselves on fried squid. Starscream and Riot shared a giant chunk of fried flounder and bread balls. Hound tried to pay Optimus back, but he denied the money. He thanked the man with a little salute and stepped away to smoke, the three youngest men joining him.

For another hour, they walked the park, catching critters and talking animatedly. Starscream and Riot even cheered up for a short while. But the good mood came to an end after they all stopped to watch the sunset.

“I should probably go home soon,” Starscream muttered with a frown.

“You're going home after he yelled at you like that?” Gravescour asked before Riot could say anything. The entire group looked at the slender man for an answer.

When he said nothing, Hound spoke up; “I wouldn't go back to that jackass if I were you.”

“I like this guy,” Ratchet said, hooking a thumb in the bigger man's direction.

“I know, but I really should. We're trying to patch things up,” Starscream trailed off, his shoulder near his ears.

“Doesn't look like it, if he's making fun of yer hobbies,” the rotund man said, hands on his hips.

“Thank you,” Arcee said.

Starscream curled in on himself, avoiding eye-contact. “I just need to go-” He stopped to blink when Gravescour said “yoink” and snatched his phone out of his hands. Before Starscream could say anything else, Gravescour ran off, clearly headed out of the park. Everyone else in the group knew that they couldn't keep up with the lean youth, so no one tried.

“Did he just steal your phone?” Hound asked.

Starscream sighed. “He'll give it back when I find him,” he complained.

“Where is he running off to?” Optimus asked, a blue brow raised.

“Probably my house,” Ratchet explained.

Arcee burst out laughing, and the others turned to look at her. “Oh man, I've heard of taking your ball and going home, but this is the first time I've seen taking your friend's phone and going home! He even made a sound when he grabbed it!” She held her stomach with her laughter.

“Man, that kid would make a good scout,” Hound said with a firm nod.

The group soon decided to head home, the event nearly over. They said their goodbyes to their new friend and piled into the van, deciding to head back to Ratchet's house first. There was barely any light left in the sky when they pulled up in the driveway, parking next to Riot's car, and the figure on the roof almost went unnoticed. Starscream was the one to notice, pointing out to the others how eerie he looked.

“How did you get up there?!” Ratchet called out.

“I climbed!” was the teen's response. He sounded proud of himself.

Arcee couldn't help but snicker. She covered her mouth when Ratchet frowned at her.

“Well, come down! Starscream needs his phone back!”

“Not until he agrees to spend the night!” Gravescour said.

Everyone turned to the slender man then, brows raised or heads cocked as they awaited a response. Starscream huffed and sputtered for a moment before eventually managing a “fine”, looking everywhere but at the others.

“Hey says he will stay,” Optimus called out to the man on the roof.

“Okay! I'll be down in a minute!”

Ratchet unlocked the door and let everyone inside to wait for Gravescour. When the teen came bounding in, he first handed the lean man his phone before hopping up to Ratchet.

“Why don't you start a fire, and I'll make everyone cookies or muffins or something to say I'm sorry?” he asked, leaning forward to give him a peck on the cheek.

“If anyone else wants to sit around the new fire pit, I will,” Ratchet agreed, unable to be mad at the younger man.

“I'll take some sweets,” Arcee said with a shrug.

“I could use some chocolate,” Starscream grumbled.

“Alright, then. I'll get a fire started,” Ratchet said.

“Can I help?” Riot asked.

“Sure, just be careful, ya pyromaniac,” Ratchet muttered.

The dark-skinned teen grinned and took Starscream's hand, running off to the back. Ratchet grabbed a case of beer from the refrigerator, and everyone else followed.

“Your backyard looks amazing, old friend,” Optimus said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, Gravescour and I got it cleaned up. Riot helped a little bit, too.”

“That was nice of you,” Arcee said with an accusatory tone, smirking. The teen blushed.

They all chose seats, and Starscream wound up snuggling up to Riot on the newly-installed garden swing. Ratchet took his usual folding chair, and Arcee and Optimus sat on a log that had been brought in for seating around the fire pit.

They chatted about their days, battled each other and traded on CreCo. Arcee, Starscream and Ratchet had beers, but Optimus and Riot turned them down when offered. When Gravescour had been gone for a while, Ratchet went in to look for him. He found the teen sitting on the counter, looking at his phone and kicking his bare feet. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, his undershirt showing and his sleeves rolled up. Ratchet approached slowly, waiting for the teen to look up.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” was the response. The younger man's posture was a bit shy when he noticed the other.

“I'm not mad,” Ratchet said, inserting himself in between the long legs. “In fact, I'm happy, but I can't exactly condone you stealing Star's phone even if it did get him to stay.”

“You know I wouldn't keep it,” Gravescour said, setting his own phone aside so he could wrap his arms around Ratchet's shoulders.

“I know. How are you feeling?”

“A little overwhelmed, honestly. But I'm good now, since I'm away from the people and Star's spending the night.” He smiled, burying his face in white locks.

“Good,” the older man said quietly, just leaning against the other for a long moment. Eventually he pulled back. “Whatcha makin'? The oven isn't on.”

“Brigadeiros,” Gravescour answered.

“What?”

“Chocolate balls with chocolate sprinkles,” the teen said with a snort.

“What're you gonna have for a snack?”

“There's popsicles in the freezer!”

“Only you would eat a cold treat when it's this chilly,” Ratchet said with a chuckle. “How much longer will you be? Do you need any help?”

“Nah, I'll only be, like, another ten minutes. Just gotta pull the batter out of the freezer and roll the balls.”

“Alright, I'll go make the guest bed for Star and Riot while you do that.”

“Okay,” the younger man said, lifting his head. They shared a quick kiss before they went to their own tasks.

Ten minutes later, they both headed back outside. Gravescour explained what the sweets were and had everyone take a handful. Some of them came back for seconds.

They all relaxed by the fire until the sweets were gone, then Optimus and Arcee said their goodbyes and headed off. Ratchet put out the fire while Gravescour cleaned up. Riot and Starscream opted to stay in the backyard for a while, just talking quietly, sitting pressed together on the swing.

“Does the jerk know you're spending the night yet?” Riot asked.

“Yeah,” Starscream said, holding out his phone so the other could see the messages. _Gravescour took my phone and wouldn't give it back until I promised to spend the night._

 _That's fine. I'm sorry for how I acted. See you tomorrow_.

“That's surprisingly mature of him,” Riot grumbled.

“I guess,” Starscream said with a sigh. “He's probably just going to take me someplace fancy to eat tomorrow and act like everything is okay.” The older man sighed again. “Hey never wants to actually talk about anything. He makes plans without consulting me,” he trailed off, leaning his head on Riot's shoulder. “I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you,” he mumbled. “You deserve better.”

“Hey now,” Riot said, taking Starscream's hand. He noticed then that the other wasn't wearing the massive ring. “I'll decide what I deserve.” He rested a cheek against the older man's chilled hair. “Besides, what about you?”

“What about me?” Starscream asked.

“Don't you deserve better than being yelled at in public like that?”

Starscream was silent for a long time. “Yes and no,” he said. “CreCo is a childish game, but I'm allowed to have a childish hobby or two.”

“You could have all the childish hobbies in the world and no one has the right to treat you like that,” Riot said, his voice softer than usual.

Starscream gave a sad smile. “You're very kind,” he said.

“Normally I'd love to hear something like that, but right now I'm just telling the truth,” he promised, giving the thin fingers in his grip a little squeeze.

“It's getting late.”

“Want to go to bed?”

“For once, I don't really feel like doing that,” Starscream admitted quietly

“I didn't mean it like that. I meant to sleep. I don't think Ratchet would mind if I stayed and just held you for a while tonight.”

“You know, for some reason I don't think he'd mind, either.”

They both managed a little laugh at that.

“I guess, if we don't have sex, it'll be okay.”

“I won't ask you to if you're not up for it,” the white-haired teen assured, gently stroking the delicate fingers in his grip. “I'm happy you wore the scarf I got you today,” he said.

“I thought you would be,” the older man said with a little smile. “Let's go inside before I fall asleep out here.”

They headed in, fully intent on making their way to the guest room quietly as not to disturb the others, but they both burst into laughter at the scene on the couch.

Ratchet sat with a beer in hand, watching television, with a clearly sleeping teen half on his lap with his face buried in the older man's stomach. Gravescour was snoring loudly, unperturbed by the giggling men. Ratchet huffed fondly. He turned the volume up on the TV and waved the men on to the guest room.

Inside, they took off their shoes and stripped to their underwear. Riot pulled back the covers and they both slipped in. Long limbs wrapped around a muscular torso, the older man coping when strong arms returned the embrace.

“I shouldn't be doing this to you,” Starscream mumbled, already on the verge of sleep. “I'm just as bad as he is.”

“No, you're not,” Riot soothed, petting the platinum blonde and red hair lovingly. “I know my limits.”

Starscream only cooed once more, giving in to the warmth of the body wrapped around his, and the call of sleep took him.

In the morning, Riot guzzled the coffee Gravescour prepared. He'd stayed up late into the night just watching the older man breathe, enjoying how the tension faded from his face in his sleep. He'd loved the way the man smiled and snuggled closer. The way he'd rubbed their legs together unconsciously.

Gravescour laughed at him as he asked for another cup of coffee like a drunk orders booze at a bar.

“Good thing that was Saturday night instead of Sunday, huh?” the goth teen teased.

“Yeah, but I have to make the drive back to campus tonight, so load me up,” Riot said.

Gravescour rolled his eyes and poured another cup for his friend.

Starscream and Riot spent a little time together that morning before they both went home. They chatted about school, airplanes and flying, ignoring the awkward tension around them. Ignoring the world they'd have to return to soon.

Starscream was the first to make for his car, but Riot stopped him.

“Stay safe, please?” Riot asked.

When Starscream opened his mouth to respond, the teen laid a kiss on his parted lips. “I will,” Starscream promised, covering his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome!
> 
> Fun fact: We decided to use Bayverse Hound (and later Drift) because I (JOLT) fell in love with them after seeing the movie. They were the only good thing to come out of that god-forsaken franchise... though I’m sure Bee and many others would disagree.


	21. Chapter 21

Starscream was delighted to get back to school. Megatron had played nice, but he was clearly still annoyed about the game. The first few days of the week were normal days, but Thursday he came into another gift on his desk. The box was large, and wrapped in a garish pink and yellow striped paper.

“What's this?” he asked, looking directly at Riot for a moment.

The teen shrugged. Others made guesses as to what was in the box.

Starscream unwrapped it and pulled the lid off. He chuckled. It then turned into a laugh. Students started asking what it was, then begging when their teacher wouldn't show them. The slender man pulled out the shoes to sounds of confusion from the class. Riot's face turned as red as the leather of the shoes in Starscream's hands. They were high heeled, and belted. The belts glittered in the light of the room. The older man smiled warmly.

“Well, whoever left this clearly knows about the ball near the end of the semester,” he said. There were confused murmurs from the class. “Ah, I suppose I should explain since most of you seem confused,” he said, looking the shoes over once more before placing them back in the box. “Every semester there is a dance at the end of the semester that we lovingly refer to as 'the ball'. It is an excuse for everyone to relax and let out some stress before you have to take an exam while flying a plane. “Everyone is encouraged to wear the gaudiest dress they can find, yes, man or woman. Big hair is always a plus, and so are bright, flashy shoes such as the thoughtful gift I was given today,” he said, his smile reaching his eyes. “And yes,” he continued, “I love them.”

Starscream was in a good humor for the rest of the class, and though Riot had the feeling of wanting to crawl into a hole and die, he was still happy to hear that the other appreciated his gift.

The following week was an off week for gifts, and Riot felt restless every night. He often got up to wander around the dorms, not wanting to disturb his roommate by turning the light on. What he truly wanted to do was to masturbate, but he could never seem to find the alone time. Bumblebee never stayed out late or slept in. Riot's blonde companion seemed to be a certified Good Boy. He counted himself lucky that the other seemed to be a heavy sleeper, allowing him to jerk off once or twice. But that hadn't been enough to deal with his frustrations.

Riot kept the dildo he'd brought with him in his bedside stand. He feared it would grow dusty soon if he didn't get a chance to break it out.

Later in the week, Riot finally built up the courage to take a chance, hoping Bumblebee's trend of sleeping through everything but screaming would continue.

Laying in bed with the blanket over him, Riot shimmied out of his underwear. He closed his eyes to the dark room and imagined Starscream there with him. He brought his hands up under his shirt and plucked at his nipples briefly before allowing the hands to wander down, wishing the teasing touch was coming from slimmer fingers instead. He gave his length a few strokes before moving beyond it, tracing the line of his labia. He dipped a finger inside to play with his clit until it swelled beyond the folds. He rubbed at that for a long moment before dipping the fingers he used.

For a few minutes, Riot fingered himself, trying to build up the courage to reach over to the drawer. Three fingers deep, he wanted something more. With a sigh, he took his fingers out and turned on his side to open the drawer as quietly as possible. Toy in hand, he left the drawer open as not to make any unnecessary noises. With hands back under the blanket, he spread his legs, giving an amused little grunt at the way he could just barely make out his cock tenting the blanket in the darkness. Spreading himself with one hand, he rubbed the head of the slightly larger-than-average toy over his clit a few times. Finding himself bucking into the silicon touch, he decided it was time to move on. He found himself sufficiently wet, imagining how his former commanding officer and current teacher would comment on it. He bit his lip to keep himself quiet as the head breached him. He moved just that part in and out a few times, whispering a soft “please”. After doing that, he held perfectly still, silently cursing himself for getting so into his fantasy that he made sounds.

He listened for what felt like minutes, trying to gauge the sound of his roommate's breathing to see if he had woken him. As he did, his hole clenched on the head of the toy, trying to draw it in, his pussy both eager for more and spurred on by the idea of potentially getting caught. Once he thought himself safe, that he hadn't woken Bumblebee, Riot pushed the toy deeper, sighing out a heavy breath as he was filled. He gave himself a moment to adjust, simply enjoying the feeling of having something inside him.

Imagining the slender man above him, whispering filthy things, he started to fuck himself with the toy. Riot wanted a repeat of what they'd done in the barracks, but with his partner's dick instead of fingers. He wanted to be fucked on the bed while Bumblebee slept next to them, well aware that they could be caught at any moment. His exhibitionist tendencies getting the better of him, Riot threw covers back, telling himself it was more for achieving a better range of motion. He knew that if the blonde woke up, he would see his bent knees and the motion of his hand. He might not be able to make out the details, but he'd know what was happening. If he couldn't see, the panting and barely-there moans would give him away.

The dark-skinned teen almost wanted the other to wake up and catch him fucking himself while fantasizing about their teacher.

Little did he know that Bumblebee was wide awake, his dick straining against his boxer briefs as he listened to the wet sounds of his friend shoving a silicon cock in his wet pussy. The blonde snuck his hand down to his length, running his fingers over it. He didn't know if he could get away with touching himself in such close proximity. He wanted to, memories of the other times he'd accidentally and purposefully spied on Riot flooding his mind. When the bigger teen's moans grew louder, barely audible but still there, Bumblebee couldn't resist giving himself a few strokes.

The louder Riot grew, the bolder Bumblebee's hand became. By the time the white-haired man was gasping, fucking himself through an orgasm to thoughts of their teacher, the blonde was furiously stroking himself, trying to get off before Riot came down from his high and noticed him.

The smaller teen came with a sigh, the sounds his roommate made as he pulled the toy from himself drowning out the noise. Riot's little hum of pleasure seemed to travel up Bumblebee's spine as his dick throbbed, his seed smearing the sheets.

When he came down from his high, the blonde almost groaned. He'd have to sleep in his own spunk if Riot didn't clean up and fall asleep soon.  
  


* * *

  
Friday evening as Riot drove home, he received a text. He checked it at a red light.

Come straight to the shop instead of going home. Gravescour said.

Riot pulled into the Webby's parking lot five minutes before it was scheduled to close. When he walked in the door, Airachnid smiled brightly.

“Turn off the open sign and lock the door, would you?”

Riot pointed to himself as if to ask “me?”

Airachnid continued; “Yes, you. We're making a present for that Starscream tonight and you're the last ingredient needed.”

“I don't think I like the sound of that,” Riot said, though he turned off the light and locked the door as he'd been instructed. The older woman laughed.

“Now, now,” she said, “We're not doing anything weird, we just wanted you to help. Gravescour is in the back finishing up the last of his cookies I intend to sell tomorrow. Soon we will get started on a special batch which you will use to woo that Starscream I keep hearing so much about.”

“You're not going to put, like, an aphrodisiac in them, or something, are you?” Riot asked nervously.

The gothic woman's smile was unnerving. “I could, if you'd want me to,” she said thoughtfully, a painted nail to her lips.

“No, no! That's okay. I don't want to drug anyone,” Riot sputtered.

“But chocolate is a drug,” she teased. “Sugar is a drug,” she continued, happy as a clam. “In large amounts they can simulate the feeling of love. Why do you think they're sold around love holidays?”

Riot couldn't come up with a response and sputtered uselessly. Airachnid laughed.

“Come back here,” she said, lifting the moving portion of the counter for the young man. “You're family now,” she said, ushering Riot to the back.

Once in the kitchen, Riot let out a sudden bark of startled laughter.

“Laugh it up, lover boy,” Gravescour said, wiping flour off his cheek with his arm. “This is how the magic is made,” he said, popping another tray of cookies in one of the many industrial sized ovens. When the teen turned to look at his friend, the dark-skinned boy kept laughing. The hair net and full-body smock that looked akin to a transparent raincoat had Riot slapping his knee. He stopped laughing when Gravescour smirked. The older teen yelped when Airachnid slipped a hair net over black and white locks. She tucked in the stray strands before Riot could even complain. “This is the last of what I have to make for tomorrow,” the goth teen explained. “Luckily activity slowed down tonight and let me get ahead.” He smirked, watching as Airachnid wrestled his friend into his own protective covering. “Ready to make a shitload of cookies for Starscream?” he asked, chuckling at the wet cat look that Riot gave.

“I guess? You're the baker here,” the shorter teen complained.

“Yeah, but you're the one giving the gift, so you need to help make it,” Gravescour said smugly, quietly enjoying his friend's discomfort at all the precautions that were being taken. “See that box over there by that sink?”

“Yeah?”

“Grab that and open it up. That's the specialty chocolates Ratchet ordered for this.”

Riot did so with a grunt. The box was heavy. “My debt ever increases,” he grumbled, earning a laugh from the older woman.

“I'm going to go start cleaning the lobby,” Airachnid said, giving a delicate wave. “Just yell if you need anything!” she called as she walked out.

“This is a lot,” the white-haired young man said as he browsed the box's content.

“Well, you couldn't decide which kind to make him, so,” the lean young man trailed off, pulling ingredients out of the white cabinets that lined the kitchen.

Riot huffed, but didn't respond to the quip. “What're these for?” he asked, holding up some candied cherries.

Gravescour grinned and Riot shrank away, knowing that devious look never meant anything good. “Those are for a recipe I found that I know he'll like,” the younger teen teased.

“How do you know?”

“Ratchet told me his secret.”

“His secret?”

Gravescour looked around conspiratorially before whispering, “He's a sucker for cheesecake.”

Riot blinked. “Who isn't?”

“Me?”

“Well, you're too fruity to like normal sweets,” Riot reasoned. Gravescour scoffed. “So, he really likes cheesecake, huh?”

“From the sound of things, yes. I found this recipe for cheesecake cookie cups that I decided to improve upon. We'll get started on that one in just a moment. First, grab all of the bags of chocolate chips from that box.” The younger teen grinned an abnormally shark-like grin. “I hope you're ready to get dirty,” he said menacingly as Riot walked over, four small bags in hand.

“I'm not,” he said honestly. “But for Starscream, I will.”

As they mixed their various recipes, the box of things Ratchet had purchased dwindled until all that was left was a small, expensive box of chocolate-covered cherries. Airachnid came and went from the kitchen, taking out the trays of cookies from the oven and transferring them to a cooling rack, then to box in the walk-in freezer.

It felt like hours before the teens put the first batch of anything in the oven, Riot's nose still crusted with batter that his friend had smeared there with a tasting spoon.

“Alright,” Gravescour said, finally. “All that's left to make is the filling for the cookie cups.”

“That's good. How long will that take?” Riot asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Maybe fifteen minutes if you struggle with it,” came the answer.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You need to make this by yourself, since it's the special one just for him.”

Riot quickly grew nervous, feeling as though someone had opened an oven next to him. “I- I don't know. This has always been your thing,” the older teen stumbled, wringing his flower-caked hands nervously.

“Relax,” Gravescour said with a soft smile. “It's just four ingredients in a bowl with a mixer. It'll be easy, and you'll know how to make it for next time. Or to put on his pancakes the next time he spends the night.”

“On pancakes?”

“Yeah, he likes custard normally,” the younger teen said, pulling a face, “but I think this'll be a nice little treat too.”

“At least custard is sweet,” Riot said, “unlike you, putting cheese on pancakes.”

Airachnid made a disgusted noise from the doorway, her nose wrinkled at the thought. “Cheese?” she asked, folding a couple of boxes to ready them for filling.

“It's good!” Gravescour whined.

“Whatever you say,” she said, holding up a hand in a placating gesture.

Riot snickered.

“I need to go grab the cooler I brought earlier today so you can take those cheesecake bites with you without them going bad.”

“You bought me a cooler, too?” Riot asked, looking up from the bowl he was dumping the ingredients Gravescour advised into. “I have so much debt now,” he moaned miserably.

“Like I said earlier,” Airachnid started when she returned with an ice-filled Styrofoam cooler in hand, “You're family now. If you really want to pay me back, come in and buy your dad a dozen cookies for the writer holiday.” She winked at the boy.

Riot just groaned and mumbled his thanks.

“Mix,” Gravescour ordered, shoving the device into darker hands.

“Man you're bossy in the kitchen,” the older teen mumbled.

“Yeah, but he's good at what he does,” Airachnid said. “I'm going to start cleaning out the ovens and getting them shut down for the evening, so don't mind me.”

After mixing the ingredients, Riot took a tasting spoon to the fluffy mass in a bowl. His red eyes widened.

“It's good,” he whispered. The other boy just patted him on the back and pushed the tray of cinnamon sugar cookie cups they'd made earlier in front of him. “Fill these, put a few cherries on each, and we'll grab some drizzle when you're done with that,” he said softly, smiling.

Gravescour helped Airachnid clean as Riot meticulously filled each cup, trying to make each one as visually appealing as possible. When he was finished, the older woman handed him a bottle of cherry-flavored drizzle and instructed him on how to pour it.

While those treats took some time to set, they filled a large box with the cookies they made, as well as some of Airachnid's brownies. When they couldn't fit anything more, they closed the box and taped it shut. The gothic woman took a marker and scrawled on it in her fancy cursive 'To Share'. She then handed the marker to Riot, who looked confused. With a chuckle, Airachnid pulled the much smaller box she'd put together earlier over. She flipped the lid open and pointed to its underside. “Write something for him here,” she instructed gently.

Riot stared at the blank space for a long moment, not knowing what to write. Then it came to him. His grin grew bigger and bigger as he wrote. Airachnid smiled at the message, taking the marker back when he was finished. She patted his shoulder. Only nine of the twelve cheesecake cups they'd made fit in the smaller box, the chocolate-covered cherries placed in each gap they left. Airachnid added a couple mint leaves just to give the box a bit more color. She closed it, taped it shut and wrote 'For Only You' on the lid.

“Looks like there's exactly enough left over for us to each try one of these,” the older woman said, grinning.

They each tried one of the cookies. Riot was impressed with himself. They cleaned up what was left and made to head out, but Airachnid stopped Riot. She held up a plastic bag with a few chocolate chip cookies in it.

“What's this for?” he asked.

“To bribe your dad out of stealing your sweets for Starscream and your class,” she said. She then hurried them out of the shop.

Gravescour helped Riot load the boxes into his car, then they headed to Ratchet's house. Outside, they shared a cigarette. The older teen sniffed, wiping at cheeks every minute or so.

“You okay, man?” Gravescour asked softly.

“Yeah,” Riot sighed. “Just- I dunno- touched, I guess.”

“It's okay to cry,” the lean man said, handing back the nearly finished smoke. “Everyone wants you and Starscream to get together, so we're here for you.”

“I know, and I appreciate it.” He stubbed the cigarette out in his car's ashtray. “We'll hang out this weekend, I swear. Thanks for your help.” He gave the goth teen a hug before booting him from his car. He smiled and waved back when Gravescour waved from the front door.  
  


* * *

  
When he returned to school on Sunday night, Riot shoved the smaller box tot the back of his shared freezer, piling foods in the front of it, hoping his roommate wouldn't notice it. He shoved the other box under his bed and pulled the bedskirt over it. He'd originally planned on waiting until Friday, the day of their first exam, but he knew the cookies would go stale by then, so he went to bed early that night.

Riot got up at three thirty the next morning, showered, dressed, and was ready to go by four. Classes didn't start until eight, the earliest attendants not showing up until seven. That left him with three hours to get both boxes of sweets inside the classroom with no one noticing. He faced but one problem. The door was locked.

He hid the boxes in an alcove and went to find a member of the maintenance crew. The teen bribed the older man with a brownie and a story about not wanting the class to know the sweets were from him. The door was unlocked, and he placed both boxes on Starscream's desk, the big box in plain view, the smaller one hidden from the class' view by the computer monitor. Once positioned and a brownie removed for the maintenance man, the door was locked again. Riot holed up in a common area to study until Bumblebee arrived.

The class again made speculations about the boxes until Starscream arrived at eight on the dot as he did every morning. A fine silver brow rose. The new box was huge. It wasn't wrapped either, he noticed as he walked up.

“Well!” Starscream said when he opened the box. “Looks like someone wants to make sure all of their classmates have a nice little treat before the exam.” The slender man stood with the box and moved it to the table that sat at the front of the classroom, just below the projector screen. “Come and get a snack, everyone,” he said.

When he returned to his own chair, Starscream noticed the smaller box. These weren't in Riot's handwriting, but he knew the gifts were from him. Who else, he wondered, would get such a large box of sweets from a place in the city they both lived in. The Webby's logos on the corners of the boxes gave him away.

As the students were loading themselves with sweets and marveling over the taste, the older man opened the smaller box. He was struck speechless by the display, glad that his class was occupied with something else so they didn't see his reaction. He took out one of the cheesecake cookie cups and buy into it as he read the note:

_This present was a bit of a group effort. We're all here for you. Hopefully you won't need these to cope with exam scores Friday._

It was accompanied by a little heart. Starscream smiled warmly, then looked up to find Riot. The teen winked at him as he grabbed a brownie from the box. Starscream hid his blush by cramming the rest of the cookie in his mouth and closing his personal gift.

Starscream did not want to go home Friday evening. Twenty-four exams weighted down his briefcase, in need of grading. He'd left what remained of the sweet gift from Riot in the freezer of his room on campus, not wanting to explain nor share it with Megatron. He even considered swinging by Ratchet's place before going home to thank Gravescour for helping Riot make such a thoughtful gift, but he knew that if he was late, Megatron would ask too many questions. Instead, he went straight home. A bath to unwind before he started grading papers sounded wonderful. Maybe he'd even play nice with Megatron and put on the ring for a while so the older man would wash his hair for him.

Once home, he was greeted by the older man in a black suit, different from his normal grays and browns. Megatron's shoes shined and his hair was slicked back. Starscream stared, even as the man smiled at him.

“I- I didn't forget an important date, did I?” he asked nervously.

The brunette chuckled. “No, you didn't,” he assured. “A few things I ordered came in today, however, and I thought it might be fun to try them on.” He held open the suit so the slimmer man could see the silver lining to the jacket. “How does it look?”

“It looks fantastic,” Starscream said honestly.

The older man's lips stretched in a smile. “Wonderful,” he said. “There's one for you, too.”

“Oh?” Starscream asked, a little excited at the prospect of a new suit. If there was one thing Megatron knew well, it was men's high fashion. “Where is it?”

“It's in our room, hanging on the closet door,” the bigger man explained. “Why don't you go try it on? I'll be up in a few,” he said, his tone bordering on lascivious.

Starscream headed up the stairs nervously, worried by the tone of his partner's voice. He'd never known the man to get excited over other men's clothing, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that was just one aspect of himself that Megatron has never shared with him before. When he entered the room, Starscream's shoulders sagged. Hanging on the door was a dress. Admittedly, it was a beautiful dress, subtly shiny and frilly without being oversized. He knew he should have expected this, staring at the dress, but he had hoped to wear a suit at his own wedding. He wanted pictures of himself that he could show his mother and coworkers. It wasn't even that he had a problem with women's clothing. Hell, he wore heels on a regular basis, and lingerie as well. The dress could be donned later, he wouldn't oppose, after the ceremony for a little bedroom fun.

As he slipped it on, he hoped that's all his partner had in mind. He admired himself in the mirror and had to admit that he looked quite lovely in it, even with his mussed hair. He spent a few minutes trying to fix it until Megatron popped his head in.

“How's it going in here?” he asked softly.

“Don't you know you're not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, or something?” Starscream teased, covering himself coyly.

Megatron's smile broadened, and he pushed open the door. “We can buy you a new one,” he promised. “My, you look lovely,” he said, approaching with a hand outstretched.

Starscream felt warm as he took it, letting himself be spun, then pulling into the bigger man. “You're smiling,” he noted, cupping a slim jaw.

“I like the way you're looking at me,” Starscream said quietly. “There's love in your eyes instead of just lust.”

“Why can't it be both?” the older man asked. “I can think about how happy I'm going to be to see you walk down the aisle and how I'm going to throw you down in our honeymoon suite later that night and start making our family, can't I?”

Starscream shivered in response, bringing slender fingers up to cling the man's lapels. “I was hoping to wear a suit to the actual wedding, but I don't mind wearing something like this for you later,” the slender man said, a shy smile turned into the hand holding his cheek.

“We can talk about that later, after we pick a date,” the older man promised. “But we can practice for the honeymoon right now, even if you haven't decided on your wedding attire yet,” he growled softly.

Starscream gasped when he was given a little shove, but he didn't fall far, the bed breaking his fall. Megatron made quick work of removing his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He knelt over the prone body and felt around in the folds for slender legs, pushing them up. He bunched the skirt around Starscream's torso as the younger man's hands roamed his torso, caressing each scar like it was his first time feeling it.

“You look so beautiful,” Megatron purred.

Starscream had hoped for a kiss, but hid his disappointment in a soft moan when scarred lips found his neck and suckled. Massive hands traveled up his thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh on the insides of his legs. A knuckle found his folds and stroked tenderly.

“No panties, huh?” the older man teased, nipping at a slim jaw. “Imagine doing this on our wedding day, it'll be our little secret,” he cooed. He could feel Starscream about to protest, so he amended his words as he slipped a finger inside the moistening folds; “Or, at least at the after-party.” He used the one finger, gently, until his partner was whining, clinging to his shirt as his fluids leaked out alongside the digit. “You like the idea, don't you?” Megatron teased as a second finger joined the first. “Not wearing any panties so we can sneak off and make love several times. The dress is nice and long, so it'll hide my seed running down your thighs.”

Starscream whimpered, his insides clenching on the two fingers.

Megatron chuckled, adding a third, quickly. “You really like that idea, it seems.”

“Please,” the younger man whined, pushing back on the fingers that had stilled.

“Shh, love,” he said as he removed his fingers. He flicked the wet digits over the younger man's clit a few times, loving the way he keened.

Quickly, Megatron unbuttoned his pants and freed his length. He gave himself a few strokes as he took in the scene before him: Starscream, on his back with his legs splayed, his pale body decorated with an even lighter dress that was hiked up, showing his eager hole and how his fluids made him shine. The younger man's hands were curled up by his chest, and his lips were parted for him to whine at his lack.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Megatron soothed, stroking a soft thigh with his free hand. “Just let me admire the view for a moment.

Starscream whined again, tugging on the shirt. With a growl, Megatron lay his body over the slender one taking a handful of his partner's messy locks just to hold as his other lined himself up with the eager hole. He pushed in, all in one tortuously long shove, the silken flesh giving way to the veined monster. Starscream whimpered, tears building at the corners of his eyes as Megatron whispered sweet nothings into his ear, the warm breath making him shake, making his insides bear down on the stiff prick.

Vaguely, Starscream thought he might tear the shirt he held so tightly. He forgot all about it when his lover began to move. Still holding silver locks, Megatron thrust. Starscream howled, torn between pain and pleasure. He wanted more of a touch than just the cock ramming him, but couldn't voice it. Only whines and short-lived shouts escaped him when he opened his mouth. Through slitted eyes he watched his lover, panting, a bead of sweat dripping down that angular nose as he rammed into the wet, throbbing hole. Megatron gazed down at his slender lover, a half-smile in parted lips.

Starscream wanted to come like this, without the filthy words, with the tender gaze – making love. But he couldn't quite manage it, just barely on the wrong side of pain. “Please,” he finally managed, lifting a hand to thread his fingers in the sweaty strands at the base of the thick neck.

“What do you need?” Megatron husked, giving a slight tug to the locks between his fingers.

“T-touch me,” he begged.

“Anything,” the elder man leaned back so he could comply with the request.

The change in angle had Starscream squirming, clawing at the shoulder his hand dropped to. A thumb furiously rubbing his clit had him screaming, finally achieving the feeling he so desperately needed. The only downside was the loss of the image of his partner over him, gone with it the romantic idea of struggling for their orgasms together. Megatron always had to watch himself play with his lover's clit, watch the way that fondling the sensitive nub made the hole quiver around his throbbing cock. He couldn't simply reach between them and stroke the nerves as they looked each other in the eyes or, Primus forbid, kissed.

Still, Starscream whined through his orgasm, the blood pounding in his ears drowning out the dirty talk Megatron always made about his pussy rippling with pleasure on his massive prick. Once it subsided, he was granted the vew of his lover over him again, but it was only for Megatron to grab his legs and hold them up so he could pound into the relaxed passage and chase his own orgasm without remorse.

Starscream knew his dissatisfaction with the normalcy of the supposedly special episode of love-making wouldn't show on his relaxed features, so he waited out the other, clinging to his shirt. He couldn't help but shiver when he was pumped full of his lover's seed. It was an especially large load, built up, he hoped, from the other being faithful. It gave him a small bit of pleasure at the thought, and he cooed softly, meeting Megatron's lips when they were offered – their first kiss in Primus knows how long.

“That was amazing,” the older man said, a lopsided smile on his scarred face.

“Mmhmm,” the younger one agreed.

“We should get you out of this dress before it gets ruined,” Megatron said, pushing it up with his softening length still plugging up Starscream's hole.

The slender man let him pull the gown off, body pliant. He could feel himself leaking when the length left him, but couldn't bring himself to care.

“Beautiful,” the brunette said one more.

They lay side by side for a few minutes, just catching their breath.

“Want to play the wife and go get us a snack while I put up our clothes and change the duvet?” Starscream chuckled.

“Sure,” he said with a little roll of his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

With his pants back on, the slender man made finger sandwiches. He thought of his briefcase in the car with the exams he needed to grade and groaned. Cutting the sandwiches in half, Starscream decided to put it off until the next day and spend the evening curled up with Megatron just watching television. Figuring that his partner was growing hungry since he'd been downstairs for a bit, he headed up with the plate. He pushed open the door, a smile on his face. “I made-”

“Claiming you, huh?” Megatron demanded, glaring daggers at the younger man.

“What?”

“You want this brat to lay claim to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Starscream asked, his shoulders hunched.

“You're texting this whore, making jokes about him laying claim to you? Where is this scarf?!” Megatron shouted.

When Starscream didn't answer immediately, Megatron threw the slender man's phone. He'd been aiming for the wall next to him, but his jaw dropped when he clocked the shorter man upside the head. Starscream dropped the plate and fell to his knees in splattered sandwiches. He held his head for a long moment before looking up in disbelief. Megatron stared back with concern on his features, his jaw slack as he couldn't believe what he'd done.

“Starscream, I didn't mean to-”

“I bet you didn't,” he hissed, grabbing his thankfully undamaged phone from the floor. “I'm spending this weekend at Ratchet's.” He grabbed a sweater from the closet before leaving, slamming every door behind him as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and crits welcome!


End file.
